


Calm Waters Run Deep

by MaryDragon



Series: Trouble the Water [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: All memories, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Self-Doubt, Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Zelda's diary, major character deaths, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 67,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryDragon/pseuds/MaryDragon
Summary: An expansion of canon: a look at why the memories might have happened where and when they occurred (with one slight change in order) and an attempt to fill-in the events and conversations alluded to by diary entries and conversations in-game."You were a comfort to her," in particular, needed to be expanded upon, I thought.Begins shortly before the first journal entry in Zelda's diary, and continues to the immediate aftermath of the last memory.First person: Zelda's perspective*





	1. Fresh Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Calm Waters Run Deep (TRADUCTION)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902906) by [Luna_Dea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Dea/pseuds/Luna_Dea)



> Warning: Zelda/Link is my OTP since 1987. This game breathed life into a ship that I thought would never sail canonically (given a desire by the creators to keep the experience of LoZ as inclusive to all), and it came at a time that I was dealing with an intense personal tragedy.  
> Zelda's reaction at the end, when she breaks down in the woods and mourns her friends, is so poignant for me right now that I just _had to_ use this universe to vent my own sorrows. I tried to make this as painful as possible without breaking canon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we do not get off to an auspicious start.

He presented himself to my father while I was in morning devotions. The rumble of gossip vibrated the castle walls differently that day: it was more feverish, less idle, loaded with flights of fancy. Once disturbed, I abandoned all hope of returning to prayer and instead followed the threads of rumor and supposition.

 _He bears the sword that seals the darkness._ They whispered. _Friend of the Zora. Son of a Knight. Chosen of Fate._

I emerged into the throne room to find him, no more than a year or two older than I – _not much more than a boy, then_ – on one knee before King Rhoam. My father’s eyes met mine over the boy’s bent head, and he finished a proclamation I had missed the beginning of.

“My daughter, Zelda, is to be your charge.”

_What?_

The boy’s head snapped up, and in a voice rougher than his years he echoed the thought in my head. “What?”

“The proper phrasing is ‘Pardon me, Your Majesty?’ Not, _what_.” I corrected as I made my way past him to my father’s side. “As you are _apparently_ to spend time in court, I must council you to keep to accepted forms.”

“Zelda, this is Link,” my father introduced. He seemed almost jolly today; with the slowly encroaching darkness seeping across Hyrule, it was a welcome departure from his recent gloom. “He has made quite the name for himself in recent years. It seems many of the requests for aid that We have seen rescinded have been seen to by him before We had a chance to address them. Lady Mipha has sent along a strongly worded letter of recommendation; it is of course eclipsed by the sword he carries.”

The sword was unmistakable. Its image was splashed across the iconography of the castle, emblazoned in every tome on history in the library, and until only recently had resided in the Great Hyrule Forest to the north of the Castle. I had visited it, nestled in the roots of the Great Deku Tree, many times in my youth. To see it sleeping was to be reassured; _I still have time_.

It was not still sleeping. It was strapped to this boy’s back, the blade shimmering in what could easily be mistaken for joy. The Master Sword had its master, once more.

I was to be the Princess that faced down the Calamity, then. Any hope I had left of the fortune-teller’s words being wrong - the timing being off - vanished in the light glinting off the sword that seals the darkness.

“I have, Your Majesty,” he said, in answer to some query from my father I hadn’t paid any mind to, lost as I was in my own thoughts.

“Of course you have. You likely sparked each of them to become Champion, along the course of your own trials.” Father cast me a sideways glance. “Goddess willing, you will spark the same awakening in our Zelda.”

It was all I could do to smooth my features, to keep the shame and dismay from showing on my face. I gathered up my skirts instead and spun around to exit the same way I had entered. I was the Princess of Hyrule. I was strong in the face of adversity. I was unbowed beneath the threat of evil. And I _would not_ let this _boy_ who had his power neatly handed to him _by a tree_ have the opportunity to mock my own failure. He knew nothing of having to earn his place. None of them did. I had trained, morning and night, for _nine years_ and still had not proven my devotion to the Goddess, while the four of them had been merely tapped as this _boy_ passed them on his way to claim his magical damn sword.

I stood on my balcony and welcomed the moon as it rose, taking its ascension from the horizon as an opportunity to send my devotions once more to the Goddess Hylia. A blue light was visible from distant Mount Lanayru, and I mentally counted the days until I was allowed upon the sacred mountain. Barely more than a year, now; I would be sixteen in a few days’ time, and Mother had always promised I would go to the Spring of Wisdom the moment I was able. She had thought it the single most beautiful place in Hyrule, and given all I had seen, that was indeed high praise.

I knelt on the stones until the moon reached its apex and then pushed myself to my feet. The cold had seeped into my bones, it seemed; winter is still some months away but the castle stones collected the chill greedily, as soon as it was available. I leaned for a moment on the wall, letting my gaze sweep over the sleeping Castle.

In the courtyard below me, kneeling beside the swift-moving spring, one hand idly toying with the eddies has they swirled in reflected starlight... was _him_. Link, father had said his name was. Our eyes met and I realized he had been _watching me_.

Outraged, I spun away from the wall and fled to my room with no attempt at dignity.

He was witness to another night of _failure_.

How _dare_ he?

My weariness forgotten, I threw myself into the chair at my desk, reaching for the familiar comfort of my journal.

It was full.

I allowed myself to briefly be outraged by the turns the day had taken, and then took a deep breath and pushed it aside. 

I’d often wondered how long it would take to fill the journal I’d started when Mother died; the answer was apparently nine and a half years.

I flipped to the first page, thinking to console myself with reading rather than writing, but the juvenile script and overly simplistic language (“Mother is dead. I am sad.”) compounded with the memory of the struggle to even understand - much less come to grips with - her passing, became simply too much to bear.

I made space for the journal on the shelf nearest my desk, promising myself to revisit it _someday_ , if not today, as I slid it in with the lines of books. Tomorrow, I would go in search of a new journal. After morning devotions. And perhaps after complaining to Father about the boy with the sword.

I sighed as I rehearsed the conversation in my mind. There was no way it would go well for me. Better to leave it be, sleep on it, and set it aside as just another indignity in a life full of disappointments. I put matched action to thought as I crawled into bed and pulled the coverlet up to my chin. 

I had long since learned to sleep in spite of my fears and doubts. I would be no less a failure if I was deprived of sleep. 

My dreams were not pleasant, but that was no great departure from normal. I woke before the dawn and immediately stepped back into the rituals I had followed for the better part of a decade.

I was able to stave off thoughts of _him_ as I dedicated myself to the Goddess once more with the rising of the sun. I sent my prayers skyward as the orb lifted clear of the horizon, and then went in search of a bath, breakfast, and a new journal.

The librarian was occupied – the search for ancient texts was undoubtedly more important than my need for a journal – but promised he had something suitable and would send it to me at his earliest convenience.

Revali arrived that afternoon, landing on the suspended walkway that connected my study to the castle proper. “Tell me I heard wrong.”

“What have you heard?” I countered, as I carefully placed the pressed Silent Princess back into the book on herbalism I had been using for reference. I wouldn’t call my interest in domestically cultivating the plant an _obsession_ but it was definitely absorbing a great deal of my time and resources.

“The kid. The _boy_. Link. The one my elder is giving the credit for finding Medoh. He pulled forth the sword that seals the darkness? I could not have heard that right.”

Oh, to have Revali’s scorn directed in such a pleasing direction! “You have heard right,” I informed him as coolly as possible. “He presented himself, wielding the blade, to my father yesterday.”

Revali ran his feathered hands roughly across his face. “ _Anybody_ pulling the sword is bad. That... that gives us a ticking clock, plain and simple. But _him?_ He can’t even fly!”

It was such a ludicrous complaint that I had to stifle a laugh. “He’s Hylian!”

“So?”

Bless him. “Your Elder credits him with finding the Divine Beast Vah Medoh?”

Revali shrugged roughly – he did most things roughly, come to think of it – and his feathers ruffled a bit on his neck and crest. He was agitated, and facing an uncomfortable truth; I’d seen the reaction from him many times. “He was involved. Peripherally, at best. And, honestly, I arrived mere moments after him, so the credit to him is from nothing more than blind luck-“

“As much as I appreciate your perspective,” I told him, doing my best to keep my own dismay out of my voice, “I very much doubt he mastered the sword that seals the darkness by _blind luck_.”

“Thus my disbelief,” he shot back. “He’s nothing special.”

“Please don’t make me play evil’s advocate here,” I sighed. “The sword chose him, he is our fifth Champion.”

“Sixth,” Revali corrected. “Don’t sell yourself short, Princess.”

“That... remains to be seen.”

“Nonsense. We’ll get you sorted in short order. Your birthday’s soon, right? I’ll drop you in the moat, that works to teach fledglings to fly. Sink or soar, Princess. Sink or soar.”

“I would fall in the moat regardless,” I laughed in argument. “The power to seal away the Calamity does _not_ give me the ability to fly.”

Revali shrugged. “The image gave you a laugh, though. Mission accomplished. I’m going to grab fly boy out there and drop _him_ in the moat. See if his poor-judge-of-character sword can save him _then_.” With a full-body shake to align his feathers, he thrust off the walkway and left me to my books and flowers.

Mipha emerged from the water at my feet that evening, having swum up the waterfalls to bypass much of the pomp and circumstance within the Castle. I hadn’t heard that Revali had been successful in dropping Link in the moat, but not from a lack of listening.

“He’s done it!” She declared, exultant, and for half a heartbeat I thought of Revali's success, not Link's. It was an amusing image. “I knew he could! I put the thought of the sword that seals the darkness in his head nearly a decade ago, I _knew_ it would choose him! Oh, have you met him yet? Isn’t he _darling_?”

“I have met him,” I allowed, feeling the laugh bubble up again. It was so hard to be glum, with these characters around me. “I don’t know as I would call him _darling_ , though.”

“I decided when I first met him that I would marry him someday,” she confessed, and I remembered her announcing the same thing many years before, although then it was simply some boy she’d known, and no one she’d put a name to. It took several long moments before I managed to put together all the pieces.

“Link? Link is the boy who found you when you were swept downstream looking for Vah Ruta? But that was years ago! He must have been so young, barely more than a child, if even!”

“Sometimes you lay eyes on a person and know they’re something special,” Mipha replied, without a drop of self-consciousness. “And I am vindicated in my regard – he is the chosen of the sword, after all. Is he here? I can’t wait to see him again!”

“He is,” I admitted. “He might be hiding from Revali, though; your fellow Champion seems to believe strongly in the therapeutic value of being dropped into the moat.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t _dare_ ,” she hissed, dropping back into the water at my feet. “I should have brought the... no. No, I was right to leave it, it wasn’t the right time...” She was still muttering as she dove and disappeared.

Daruk and Urbosa arrived at roughly the same time the next morning. Daruk traveled like a stone, rolling downhill from Death Mountain at a literally breakneck pace. Urbosa had the benefit of sand seals, though, and swift horses from the stable at the canyon entrance to the great Gerudo Valley. Daruk made a beeline for Link – an audible _good job, little guy!_ accompanied by a thunderous collision and a green blur tossed into the air was evidence enough of their reunion – while Urbosa immediately found me. I was still on the walkway, sending up my prayers with the rising sun.

“What do you think of our newest Champion?” she asked, eschewing a greeting. She was too much like Impa, my Urbosa; she saw herself as my protector as much as Vah Naboris’ pilot.

“I am envious,” I admitted freely, glancing up to see she was alone before turning back to my devotions. “I wish there was a tree somewhere I could politely ask for my birthright and have it be tactile and easily apparent.”

Urbosa dropped to the stones beside me and laughed. “It wasn’t quite so simple. He cleared out an infestation that was keeping the excavators away from Naboris, and has half of Gerudo town plotting on how to nail him down should he come back through. He’s a bit skinny, that voe, but the Chief herself set her eye to him. If he’s not careful, he’ll father the next generation of Gerudo. Or, worse, his rejections will break enough hearts to crash the population.”

It was something I didn’t quite understand about the desert race, but the vague unease the comment inspired wasn’t worth abandoning my devotions for. “Tell me, Urbosa, what _you_ think of our newest Champion. Revali and Mipha were quite free with their opinions, and it seems Daruk succeeded where Revali failed to launch Link airborne.”

Urbosa laughed again; it was one of my favorite sounds. “He has a warrior’s spirit, for sure. He’s got the tenacity of a Molduga, too, and hopefully the sense to at least look before he leaps, if not stop and think.”

“Molduga? Aren’t those the great sand dragons that live in the dunes?”

“Yes. Well remembered. They’ll attack anything that draws near, and once they hear prey they won’t stop until it’s silent. But that means they’ll attack a bomb barrel, and chase a cart full of explosives into a canyon. Granted, they’ll survive eating a bomb barrel, but it knocks them out so- I digress. Point being, the boy sets his sights on something, he gets it. Doesn’t matter how long it takes. A little bit of tempering and he’s quite the match for you, Princess.”

I flatly refused to wonder how she meant that comment to be taken. “If you’re all here, then, we can formalize the arrangement this afternoon. If you would be so kind as to send word to my father?”

“I’ll tell him myself,” Urbosa said as she pushed to her feet. “I know the sound of a dismissal. Don’t forget to eat today, you’re the skinniest vai I know.”

“I’ll have you know I haven’t forgotten to eat since I was twelve years old! That was just a one-time-“

She was laughing at me, again, and I knew she had meant it mostly in jest. She let herself out of my rooms, and for a long moment I was surrounded by peace. I hadn’t known any of them for long – excepting Mipha, of course – but the four Champions were my very dearest friends. We shared a similar purpose and burden that unified us as nothing else could.

If not for Mipha reaching out to me when my Mother had died, I would have had a very lonely childhood, indeed. We were joined in our mutual loss, and the weight of one day leading our people once we were orphaned entirely. She was a gentle soul; her being enamored of Link carried as much weight for me as his bearing the Master Sword. The sword chose him for his abilities and his courage; Revali’s rivalry would spawn from the same. Mipha, though, would have chosen him for a kind heart.

“What have you done?” Mipha’s normally soft voice echoed off the castle walls. “You could have _broken_ him!”

“This is your fault, you know,” I said to close my prayer. “You chose them, chose _him_. If they distract me from my devotions, that’s on _you_.”

I’d never spoken censure of the Goddess aloud. The shock of blasphemy was strangely thrilling after the fact.

“I didn’t hurt him! He’s little, but he’s _tough_. And, besides, Revali would have caught him if I’d-“

“I would do no such thing.”

“You talk big, Revali, but you wouldn’t let him get hurt.”

“Oh? That’s news to me.”

“All of you!” Urbosa’s voice cut through the babble as I made my way across the walkway to the tower containing my study, from where I could look down at the chaos the five Champions were inspiring in the courtyard. Link was submitting to Mipha’s ministrations with a wry sort of smile directed at Daruk, who was shrugging as he grinned at his Hylian friend. Revali stood, arms (wings?) crossed, shaking his head slowly at Daruk’s assumptions. Urbosa was crossing the paving stones towards them, with her best _angry Gerudo warrior_ voice deployed. “We have a meeting with the Princess. Pull your acts together.”

Daruk swept Link out of Mipha’s grasp as they both protested, swinging the Hylian over his shoulder like a sack of stones. Link’s voice was lost in Mipha’s complaint, and I was surprised to realize I was straining to hear it. I’d only heard five words from his lips; it was no where enough information to judge-

What was I judging? His character was spoken for by the sword, if not Mipha. The memory of his watchful eyes on me the night before swirled back to the forefront of my mind, and I fought against a new surge of dismay. Perhaps he wasn’t the one being judged.

Perhaps I was judging what judgement he’d reached regarding _me_.

As if my failure needed a wider audience.

I was the last one to the meeting, dragging my heels in the hallway like a child. The five of them had all earned their tunics and sashes, the bright blue of a Hyrulian Champion. I was flatly forbidden from wearing mine in the castle; Father had said it wasn’t becoming of a Princess, but we all knew it was because I hadn’t earned it.

It couldn’t Champion Hyrule until I had some power of my own to offer in her defense.

I pushed open the door, determined to pretend I hadn’t been lurking, self-deprecatingly in the hallway. Link had, indeed, already met each of the other four, and established some form of relationship with each of them. Daruk and Mipha were both protective of him; Daruk in the quasi-abusive older-brother sort of manner, while Mipha bore him a soft sort of affection that he seemed to tolerate, if not return.

Given what Urbosa had said about his regard amongst the Gerudo, he had lots of practice in turning women down gently, it seemed.

Revali saw in Link a rival, while Urbosa was eager for Link to take up the mantle of my chosen protector, and she advocated for it loudly.

“My what?”

“Your father should appoint him as your knight-guardian,” Urbosa repeated calmly. “It makes the most sense. We each have our Divine Beasts to mind, and our posts to maintain in the four corners of Hyrule. But the sword that seals the darkness is as mobile as Link wants it to be. He can be wherever you are, Princess, and he _should_ be.”

“The four of us will strike at Ganon from our DIvine Beasts,” Daruk agreed. “But the little guy, he’s going to be with you at the front. He strikes the Calamity down, and you seal it away. You need to get used to working with each other.”

“As much as I would prefer to be near, so that I might heal whatever wounds you incur, I am afraid I must agree with Daruk and Urbosa,” Mipha said sadly.

“It’s only fair he do _some_ thing,” Revali added. “The rest of us are piloting the Divine Beasts. It’s only reasonable that he earn his keep by protecting you while you research the guardians and such.”

“Absolutely not. I do not need a _chaperone_. I have been traversing this country for _years_ , and I-“

“You are being overruled,” my Father’s voice called from the doorway to the Chamber. All of the Champions rose from their seats, though only Link immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head to his sovereign. We were allies with the other races; none of them owed King Rhoam their allegiance directly.

I turned much more slowly, and rose to my feet. He waited for me to face him before continuing. “You should be training, rather than playing the scholar, but that will take you to the Springs of Power and Courage sooner rather than later. You are not to travel unaccompanied. The world is changing, Zelda. Link’s arrival assures us that our time is disappearing quickly.”

“Father, I-“

“This is not open for discussion, Zelda. I will formalize it in the morning. Thank you, all of you, for coming here on such short notice. As always, I appreciate your service and dedication.”

Father backed out of the room and shut the door to the tune of murmured pleasantries from the assembled Champions. Once the door shut, Link pushed back to his feet and settled back into his chair. The look he gave me was unfathomable. Flat, arguably _stoic_. What did he see when he looked at me? Was his genuflection for my father meant to be a slight at me as much as an honorific to him? Was the look on his face right now hiding the thought that he would _never_ bend knee to the failed Princess before him?

“You need a blue shirt!” Daruk declared. Mipha quickly rose and excused herself, saying she knew where to acquire one. “And we need to make this official! Remember the book you showed me, Princess? When I said I didn’t understand all this Champion stuff?”

A weight settled in my gut as I realized what Daruk was referring to. He had latched on to the idea, though, and there was no getting out of it without hurting the Goron's feelings. For all his size and strength, he was truly gentle at heart.

“The ceremony! In the big formal circle courtyard thingie! You showed me the picture in the book, remember? You said I would get to see it someday, if we were unlucky enough to... to...”

“I remember,” I answered weakly. “It seems we are cursed to live in interesting times. If you all find it necessary-“

“I find nothing about this _necessary_ ,” Revali snidely informed us, “but I also don’t have an opinion about this ceremony, one way or the other. Do it, if it pleases Daruk.”

Daruk turned those big, hopeful eyes on me, and I capitulated with a sigh. “Of course. We will meet at dawn, and I will... formally bless the chosen of the sword.”

I stood and left as Mipha darted back into the room, Champion tunic held tightly to her chest. “Link! King Rhoam had it, I fetched it from his study! It seems to have been sized for you and everything! Here, put it on!”

I went directly to the library, and with as much patience as I could muster, reiterated my request for a blank journal. I was awarded with a thick, well-bound and utterly blank tome, as well as a very eloquent apology for his having forgotten my previous inquiry.

I deflected the librarian with a question I hoped was simple to answer: was there any connection to be found between the rising of the Hero, the sword’s chosen, and the timing of the return of the Calamity?

It was not easy to answer, at all. While the two events were inextricably linked – I flinched at the word – if there was a set time to pass between the sword’s choice and the awakening of Ganon, it was nothing our studies had turned up.

I spent the remainder of the day with one of the heavier tomes, looking for any references we might have overlooked, any prophesy that might have become clear with the revealing of the Hero.

I left well after moonrise, a failure at my research and a failure at maintaining my scheduled devotions.

I had successfully acquired a new journal, but staring at the first page wiped away any ability to put words to the feelings I struggled with. My first entry in the diary I started on the eve of my sixteenth year was graceless and terse. How fitting.

 

_After meeting with the Champions, I left to research the ancient technology, but nothing of note came of my research. The return of Ganon looms – a dark force taunting us from afar. I must learn all I can about the relics so we can stop him. If the fortune-teller’s prophesy is to be believed, there isn’t much time left._

_Ah, but turning over these thoughts in my head puts me ill at ease. I suppose I should turn in for the night._

_P.S. Tomorrow, Father is assigning HIM as my appointed knight._


	2. Young Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 1 (Subdued Ceremony) as it connects with Memory 3 (Resolve and Grief)  
> Memory 2 implied in between (Revali's Flap), as Zelda is not present in the memory. I suppose she could have been in Medoh or bopping around town, but I rather like this idea, instead.  
> Ends with diary entry 2 (text taken directly from game).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The location of the memory at Lake Kolomo struck me as odd. It's not in a line for how one would travel to Goron City from... anywhere Zelda has any reason to be, that we see at this point. Checking out the Shrine at East Post made the most sense to me, as a fix, since even if they were coming from Revali's Landing they wouldn't have gone past Lake Kolomo to head towards Eldin.  
> Even with the East Post shrine, I'm thinking it more likely that Zelda just likes to take the long way around to get out of the Castle for awhile, which plays a role in later chapters.

“Hero of Hyrule, chosen by the sword that seals the darkness... You have shown unflinching bravery and skill in the face of darkness and adversity, and have proven yourself worthy of the blessings of the Goddess Hylia.”

It burned to say, I admit it. Why was he worthy, when I was not? What had I failed to do that came so naturally to him? And who was I to claim to know what would earn the blessings of the Goddess?

“Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight, the sacred blade is forever bound to the soul of the Hero. We pray for your protection, and we hope that-“ since when did my prayers do any good? “-that the two of you will grow stronger together, as one.”

I should write this up and send it to the Gerudo. They seemed to have a different idea of the one-ness Link should be seeking. Ugh, where was my mind? This was a _prayer to the Goddess Hylia_ and I was distracted by Link being handed around by the Gerudo like... like... like the _village bicycle_. I dropped my hand and took a centering sort of breath. For what it was worth, Link stayed on one knee, head bowed, and remained completely neutral as to the tone of my prayer. If I was exasperated and not particularly devotional, he gave no sign he’d noticed.

Which was becoming _pretty stinking typical_ where he was concerned.

No. No, Zelda, focus.

“Gee, this is uplifting,” Daruk muttered as I struggled to remember the words of the prayer. Daruk really didn’t have a low setting in terms of the volume of his voice. “She’s making it sound like we already lost.”

Hadn’t we, though?

“Wasn’t this your idea?” Revali snarked back. He, too, had a poor sense of what Hylians could and could not hear. “You’re the one who wanted to designate the appointed knight with all the ceremonial pomp, grandeur, and nonsense we could muster!”

Mipha shot them both a _shut up, stupid_ sort of look, but Revali was not to be dissuaded. “And if you ask me, the whole thing does seem to be overkill. I think I’m on the same page as the princess regarding this... boy.”

Oh, Goddess, no, could Link hear him? I couldn’t tell, he wouldn’t _react_ , much less _respond_. If I thought for one second I had any standing with any of the goddesses I would have prayed for them to shut Revali’s beak. Instead, I focused twice as hard on my prayer for Link.

“Oh, give it a rest,” Urbosa said, becoming the first person to ever answer one of my prayers. If I didn’t already love her, this intervention cemented her in place as my personal savior.

“That boy is the living reminder of her own failures,” she continued, and my spirits plummeted. So much for salvation. With friends like these, who needed enemies? “Well, at least, that’s how the princess sees him.”

I couldn’t continue. It was true – it was true enough to make me look foolish. I should be happy for him, I should find hope and joy in the sword’s chosen one coming forward. It was something we had only just started to worry about, and that anxiety had cleared before it could truly take root. It was a rain cloud in a drought, honestly, and I just couldn’t see it as such.

He’d just had to walk up to a tree and claim a sword.

Why, oh sweet blessed Goddess, _why_ couldn’t it have been so easy for me? Why did he get to wander the countryside and solve problems for _my people_ while I was trapped in my tower praying for salvation? How did _that_ prepare us for our future fight? My future as Queen? It was _ludicrous_ and-

-and I couldn’t even manage to get his blessing performed correctly. Was it any wonder the Goddess hadn’t seen fit to bestow me with the power to seal away the darkness?

I fell silent, letting my hand drop to my side. She was right. Urbosa was _right_ , he was the symbol of my failure. He was a walking, sword-bearing reminder of my own abject failure, and he was going to be following me along like a shadow when I sought my only reprieve from my daily devotions and traveled in search of answers to the questions raised by the ancient relics.

I allowed myself to feel horror as we stood in silence in the courtyard. Link, however, did not move. He stayed on one knee, head bowed, features calm, and waited.

I wanted to shriek at him. I wanted to strike him, to force him to react, to _say something_ , to say _anything_ , just give me an indication of how deep this river actually flowed. He was the sword’s chosen! The sword was reputed to _speak_ to him. What did it say? Did he hear it? Did he have to _fight_ to hear it, or did he simply put his hand on the hilt and it wished him a good afternoon, toodle-oo, let’s be off? Was that why he was so quiet, so damnably _stoic_? Because he had the sword’s voice in his ear, telling him the truth of what lay before him, revealing the worth of everyone he came across?

There was no good in this. I raised my hand and finished the benediction, and Link’s eyes blinked lazily open to regard me as I fell silent once more. There was a hint of a smile on his face, his eyebrows just barely raised, as if in surprise or sincerity. “My life is yours,” he answered, softly enough for the others to only know he had spoken but not to hear his words.

Was he letting them know they spoke too loudly? Or perhaps the opposite, giving the impression that sound would not carry? Oh, damn him, why could he not just be clear?

“Forgive me, I have... other matters to attend to,” I said, gathering up my skirts to facilitate my escape. Link stood and immediately moved to shadow me. I tried to argue-

But no. That was his place, now. I stopped, closing my eyes softly for a moment to regain my poise.

“We all have other matters to attend to,” Urbosa chimed in smoothly. “Link, I know you have new obligations here at the Castle with the Princess, but you mentioned needing to finish up some business in Tabantha. Would you care to travel with me? Call it old times’ sake.”

I expected him to laugh – his face lightened, and the look he shot Urbosa was definitely amused – but he remained still and reserved. “A ploy to get me into Gerudo Town, again? The bruises probably haven’t healed, yet, from the last time you got me kicked out.”

He’d been in Gerudo Town? What? How? I thought only women were allowed? Surely, that explained him being kicked out, but to even get _in_...? It was the most words he’d even strung together in my presence – there’d only been five, total, before this morning, and now three whole sentences for me to ponder over. It was infuriating, really.

“Bruises?” Mipha inquired, instantly. “Link, why didn’t you say-“

Urbosa cut her off with a full-belly laugh. “Stand down, girl, it’s a joke. He’s fine. My Chief is far too fond of his hide to scuff it too harshly on the sands at the gate.”

Mipha looked like she had a piece of her mind to fire at Urbosa, but Link’s hand to her elbow seemed to immediately mollify her. He said something, soft and apparently soothing, and Mipha nodded lightly.

“I apologize, Urbosa, I-“

“No worries, friend, no worries,” Urbosa laughed again. “So, Link, a race?”

He looked to me, one eyebrow cocked, head angled to suggest a question. He seemed... eager, maybe, but resigned? Like he wanted to go but was fine regardless of what my answer was.

How could he say so much without saying a single stupid word?

“I... have no intention to leave the Castle in the near future,” I admitted. “There is some information to run down here before I return to the field, and our pilots need time to try out the new controls and commands we have uncovered for their Divine Beasts. I will remain here in the Castle and await word from them. I... have no immediate need for your services.” If not for my father’s insistence, I would have no need at all; I was in no place to say as much, and I bit my tongue.

“We start at the front gate, once we collect our things” Urbosa said, her words thick with challenge. “First one to-“

“First lesson,” Link countered, in a voice so low I almost missed it. “Pack light.” Then, with a quick bow to me, he turned and shot across Hyrule field like a fired arrow, his footsteps diminishing almost comically fast.

Urbosa let loose a string of Gerudo that I was quite certain was all profanity – I certainly hadn’t ever heard any of those words before – and then charged back towards the castle as Daruk and Revali laughed at her discomfiture and Mipha shook her head, amused.

“Kid carries all he needs, all the time,” Daruk said, approvingly. “Urbosa should know that by now.”

“He learned from the best,” Revali agreed, patting his own pack before launching into the sky. “I will send word with what news I glean from Medoh,” he called down to me before winging off in mostly the same direction Link had charged. Link was already indistinguishable from the wildflowers in the field; had I not known Daruk and Revali I wouldn’t have imagined a living thing could move so quickly. He had to be the fastest Hylian alive, _had_ to be. Daruk escorted Mipha and I to the Castle Town before making his own farewells and rolling off towards Death Mountain once more. Urbosa raced past us as we reached the gates of the castle proper, calling her own farewells and cursing Link as a cheater. Clever, but still a cheater.

Mipha stayed with me, as was our wont, all the way to my study. I sat down heavily in my chair at my desk and my eyes landed on the herbalism tome. I wondered, not for the first time, how much truth resided in the comparison of me to the plant called Silent Princess. Would neither of us ever thrive in captivity? As my Champions departed, I wanted nothing more than to tug on my own blue tunic and follow after. They’d found their strengths in the lands they had grown up in; surely the source of my own power was outside the Castle, as well? Surely this slate, the relics, the _guardians_ we found, the Divine Beasts themselves! -surely those justified my search outside the walls of my tower? Surely my failure at attaining Wisdom through prayer implied I would find it through experience?

My father was not persuaded. My mother, he informed me, had been diligent with prayer. Since I could not learn from her teaching, I had to learn by her example. Mother had prayed morning and night, so I shall pray morning and night.

If only she’d left me _some_ thing.

“You are distraught,” Mipha said, softly.

“You are right, as always,” I replied in the same tone.

“He is a good man,” she said, missing the point entirely.

“I’m sure he is,” I agreed easily. “He has come far to take up the mantle of Champion. He will do what he can to save his people from the Calamity. It is not Link that I doubt.”

“Oh, Zelda, your power will come in time! It was _born_ in you. It is inevitable that you will tap it. You must merely discover how! I’ve found, when I am healing, that it is best to focus on-“

“Zelda!” My father’s voice was particularly grating this afternoon. “Did you send Link away? I’ve told you, his appointment was not up for- Oh, forgive me, Mipha, I was unaware you remained in the Castle.”

“I was merely accompanying Zelda back, since Link was travelling with Urbosa to finish some business before settling in permanently here at the Castle.”

“Oh,” my father breathed, and I wished, desperately, for a bare ounce of Mipha’s grace when it came to handling the man. “Well. I cannot begrudge him a desire to deliver the news to his family in person. Did he speak of when he would return?”

“He traveled with Urbosa, or rather, he was racing Urbosa,” I informed him. He smiled at the thought. How long since he had last smiled at me? “I told him I had sent the Champions out with new instructions for the operations of their Divine Beasts, and would be required to stay in Hyrule Castle to receive any correspondence from them regarding its efficacy. Likely, he will come straight back after whatever business is attended to; there seems to be no love lost between him and Revali, and Gerudo town is, I imagine, closed to him.”

My father actually laughed – _laughed!_ – at the mention of Gerudo town being closed. “Ah, Zelda, the allure of Gerudo Town has prompted many a youth to risk a beating by the guard for a chance to sneak inside.”

“ _Father_ ,” I gasped, appalled, as he chuckled his way out of my room.

“It is past time for me to be going, as well, my friend,” Mipha said, rising to wrap me up in a slightly damp but very welcome hug. “I will report back to you as soon as I have spent some time with Vah Ruta and these new controls.”

“Thank you, Mipha,” I whispered.

“Always,” she answered as she stepped away. She leapt gracefully from my walkway into the swift-flowing water below and was quickly out of sight.

I was alone, then. I settled back into my routine with my devotions, waiting on the walkway for the moon to rise and then sending my prayers skyward.

I had settled down with my new journal – determined to write something more meaningful than my last entry, if not more poetic – when I realized I had never bothered to ask where Link was going. Where was he from? Who was his family? Someone had said his father had been a knight, which had started Link down the path far earlier than most, but that was literally all I knew of him.

Why would he need to go to Tabantha? His clothing and mannerisms spoke far more of the forests and fields of Faron than the rugged reaches of Tabantha. Surely he hadn’t grown up there? He was close to Mipha and rivals with Revali, and none of it added up. 

Surely a more gracious person would have asked?

I had nothing flattering to write about, nothing even vaguely positive to put into words. I stowed my supplies and opted, instead, for bed. No one could yet begrudge me sleep; not even me.

*

It was more than a week before Link returned, bearing a letter from Revali. The new controls worked well, and with some practice he had complete confidence he would master them. Of course, Revali always had complete confidence in himself, and it was only rarely unjustified.

“How was your trip?” I asked after he silently handed me the letter. I had remarked, inanely, on his having returned, and gotten only a faint shrug and a lift of his eyebrows in response. _Obviously_ , I took it to mean.

“Unremarkable,” Link answered, and then with a gesture to the letter from Revali – _see for yourself_ , I interpreted – he climbed the stairs out of my room and onto the walkway that connected these rooms with my study. It hadn’t occurred to me that he would enter my personal room, but if I were attacked in the night, I supposed it beneficial if he was familiar with everywhere I spent time. Even knowing what side of the room my bed was on might save precious seconds should the worst happen.

Not that it was a possibility, really, that I would be endangered in my own castle. To be endangered would require someone to wish me ill. Until Calamity Ganon actually returned – Goddess prevent that from being anytime _soon_ – the list of enemies to the throne was laughably short. I had no doubt that a moblin would be stopped at the gates, long before it managed to make its way to my tower.

A messenger arrived with a similar report from Mipha – she really is the most skilled of the pilots, for whatever reason – and I forgot, for awhile, that Link was on my walkway. I pulled together Mipha and Revali’s notes and moved to my study to include them in my record of the Divine Beasts, and was momentarily startled to find I wasn’t alone.

He was clothed, of course, but everything extraneous had been stripped off and was laying in a neat pile at the edge of the walkway – the castle-side, not the study-side. He was standing on the lip of the wall, balanced on the balls of his feet, and was... _oh_ I didn’t have the word for it. It almost looked like he was sparring with his shadow.

It was like watching water drift across wind. I knew he’d spent a lot of time with the Zoras as a child – another reason to question his business in Tabantha – but it hadn’t occurred to me that their fluidity of motion would have influenced his swordmanship on such a fundamental level. He didn’t move like any of the other knights; he didn’t move like anyone else, at all, ever. I thought I could see aspects of the Rito, as he compensated for the wind; he had the speed praised by the Gerudo and, as he flipped nimbly backward across the wall and came down with a stone-shaking crash, the raw power of the Gorons.

Because of course _his_ training would net him some tangible benefit.

I half-heartedly stomped my foot, and a flicker of his eye in my direction was all the indication I got that he was aware of my presence. It was enough; he wouldn’t take my head off as I passed by. I gathered myself, peeled my eyes off the fascinating display I absolutely refused to admit was mesmerizing, and strode past him to my study. He froze as I passed, and then continued his practice as I settled in to work, my back resolutely turned to him.

When I came back onto the walkway for my evening devotions, he was gone; it didn’t take much for me to find him in the courtyard below. He was not actively watching _me_ this evening, but rather seemed to be looking everywhere _else_.

I could not bring myself to believe it was a show of respect. More likely, he knew I could see him and wished to appear to look elsewhere. Most likely, he couldn’t bear to watch the weak link in the fight against Ganon fail yet again in her task.

We fell into an uncomfortable sort of routine, him and I. I focused on my devotions, with any free time in the afternoons spent in my study, combing through what books I liberated from the library to try to find more leads to send to Purah and Robbie. Occasionally, I received word from one of my Sheikah researchers, and that helped me focus my efforts. Impa was leading the actual work of finding, cataloging and (when able to) moving what relics we uncovered, so I heard from her infrequently at best. Just knowing she was involved was a weight off my shoulders.

Link quickly figured out my schedule, and was never on the walkway when I passed through. I wasn’t sure how he managed it until I saw him free-climbing the castle walls one night. I’d spent longer on my devotions than normal – lost in thought about the location of the buried guardian columns, if I’m to be honest – and found myself still kneeling on the flagstones well after the moon started its descent. I hesitated before pushing up to my feet – knowing the cold had seeped through the fabric of my dress and an ache was inevitable – and caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

He was carrying all of his gear – bow, shield, sword, pack, food and water, everything – and propelling himself up the wall at an incredible pace. He made it seem effortless, no more taxing than climbing a tree, when I knew he carried weight at least equal to his own bodyweight, and that hand-holds were kept intentionally sparse. Some breakdown of the stone was inevitable, but he seemed to be finding purchase on the rock faces themselves, and not the cracks in between.

...like he was some kind of damnable _lizard_ rather than a Hylian warrior.

Why didn’t I get something useful like that? When the Goddess was handing out blessings, why did _he_ get to free-climb walls, and _I_ get to sit on my knees on the cold flagstones and humbly request the sealing power we so desperately needed?

How was I supposed to see him _every day_ and not slowly immolate from the injustice of it all?

It was the better part of a month after he’d returned before I received word from Daruk that the new controls were not working as well for him as they had for Revali, Mipha, and – after a bit of a workaround – Urbosa. I forwarded his concerns on to Purah, and she quickly had a number of suggestions, all of which required the Sheikah slate.

There was word of a relic spotted near the road to the south, and I took the opportunity to start there before moving north to Goron City to see Daruk about Vah Rudania.

“I am setting out first thing tomorrow morning,” I informed Link, stepping away from morning devotions to find him training on the walkway. “While I have no need of your protection, I am not willing to fight my father on this point today. If you intend to accompany me, you will need to be ready to leave promptly at dawn.”

He assumed an approximation of a bow – he was balanced rather precariously on the wall, after all – and gave me a sharp nod. I waited a moment to see if he had any further comment – and of course he didn’t – and then went back to my devotions.

I’m not sure he slept that night. He was sitting outside my window, cross legged on the landing, from the time I went to bed after my evening devotions until I rose shortly before dawn. I couldn’t help myself – I went immediately to the window to see if he was still there. When my curtain twitched, his eyes snapped to mine; even if I had wanted to try to sneak out and leave him behind, that option was lost.

He dropped off the wall to land beside me as I made my way to the gates, and then fell into step three paces behind.

He stayed there – precisely three paces behind me – for the entire walk to where the road met the Hylia river at East Post. There was, indeed, a relic hunched on the roadside near the garrison there, but like all the others it was cold and lifeless. The signs all pointed to _now_ being the time of Ganon’s awakening. The Divine Beasts were coming _online_ , as Purah said it; the guardians were becoming more and more functional, the _master bloody sword_ had chosen its wielder for the love of the Goddess. Why weren’t these relics becoming functional, as well? What were they waiting for?

There was an answer somewhere – there had to be – and it would have to wait until we got back to Hyrule Castle, for me to dig once more into the archives.

From there we turned north, and his eyes boring into my back prompted me to babble. He wouldn’t answer, and unless I turned around to try to read the expression on his face I couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking. But even then, I didn’t know what he was thinking when I asked him a direct question while looking him in the eye, so what did it matter?

“From here, we’ll make our way to Goron City,” I said aloud for probably the third time. “Then we’ll need some adjustments on that Divine Beast so Daruk can manage it as easily as possible. He’s figured out how to get it to move... However, it’s apparent that we still have much more to learn.”

I was flipping through the different displays on my Sheikah slate as we walked. It was a distraction, of sorts, from his continued menacing presence at my back. I snapped a still of the path we followed - we strayed from the road so as to not be continuously delayed by pomp and circumstance. I was too easily recognizable, and the day was bright enough to turn my hair into a beacon.

“But to think, that Divine Beast was actually built by _people_. That means we should be able to understand how it works and use it to our advantage.”

...as opposed to my own divine power, my birthright. As opposed to Link’s sword, which was crafted by a goddess according to legend. Why would the Goddess make me so good at puzzling things out, and then saddle me with a power that was ineffable?

“These Divine Beasts... so much we don’t know... But if we want to turn back the Calamity Ganon, they’re our best hope.”

 _I am no hope at all_. And Link, behind me? Just barely out of boyhood, and chosen of the sword? What hope did he bring us? Was Revali right? What did we even know about the sword that seals the darkness?

I slowed to a stop, Sheikah slate going dark in my hands. I heard him take one more step, and then the soft rustle as he adjusted his stance to wait for me to move again. He said, of course, nothing.

“Tell me the truth,” I prompted, hoping that I could assure, for once, that he would speak. I glanced over my shoulder at him, to see him impassive, three paces behind. “How proficient are you right now, wielding that sword on your back?”

He didn’t reply immediately, made no move to answer, so I pressed the question. “Legend says that an ancient voice resonates inside it. Can you hear it yet... _hero_?”

He blinked, his face still devoid of emotion, but I waited him out. I hadn’t meant the honorific to come out as a slur, but it seemed so presumptive. Just pulling the sword made him a hero?

“Proficient enough,” he answered, after enough time had passed to cause me to be surprised when he spoke. Had he ever actually answered a question I’d posed him before? “There is no... _voice_... but I can feel the sword. It is sentient, of that I’m sure.”

His jaw shifted and his brows drew down and I got the idea that he wasn’t going to say anymore.

And why should he? He shouldn’t need to justify himself to _me_. He has already proven himself. I’m the liability; I’m the failure.

And now he’s been pinned to me by my father, forced to bow and scrape to me, to dog my footsteps. _Beholden_ to me, when it should be the opposite but for an accident of birth.

Was I an accident? Was it possible there had been a mistake, a switch? Perhaps the birthright hadn’t come to me. Perhaps Link’s true purpose was to find the real Princess Zelda, and expose me as a fraud.

Would I be anything but relieved, if that proved to be the case? Hyrule would be saved, my questions would be answered, and I would finally – finally! – be freed to pursue an academic life, as I seemed most fitted to.

I didn’t try to speak to him again that day. We couldn’t make it all the way to Goron City, but we continued on until nearly dusk. There was an inn I was quite fond of at the Inogo bridge, and I asked for two rooms. The innkeeper – a pleasant woman named Ivonna – glanced over my shoulder, eyebrow raised. She seemed to have a tacit conversation with my shadow, and with a nod only charged me for one room. I assumed she had some sort of arrangement with Link, but she only showed us to one room, and only provided one key. There was a single, narrow bed within, and I shot Link a look of concern after Ivonna showed us in and bid us goodnight.

Link inspected the room, checked the windows, did _something_ to the walls, and then nodded to himself. He pressed the key to the room into my hand and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.

I moved to the door to lock it, but paused, considering. Did he have other accommodations? He couldn’t possibly be concerned with money; I had seen the bulge of gemstones in his coin purse, and I had intended to cover the expense, besides. Why turn down a room? I cracked open the door, intending to follow him to wherever he had gone, and saw him settling on the floor in front of my door. He unsheathed his sword and laid it across his knees, resting his hands gently in his lap. He tipped his head up, straightened his back, and slowly exhaled a long breath; it was a stance I'd seen Impa in many a time, when she had watched over me after Mother's death.

I shut the door as softly as I could manage, knowing full well he had known I was there. A soft rustle of fabric and wood told me he had leaned back against the door as soon as I shut it. I locked it – he had given me the key, after all – and dropped into the narrow wooden chair provided by the writing desk in the room. I slumped onto the desk with a very unladylike sigh.

Because _of course_ he had studied with the Sheikah, too. He was probably Impa’s prized pupil. He probably sang with a flawless tenor and his leavings sprouted up endangered flowers. I _really_ needed Urbosa to teach me to swear, because I possessed no words for the level of depression I currently wallowed in.

Was there anything he hadn’t been handed? I had never met a Sheikah who needed more than a few hours of sleep in a week, which explained why he had been climbing the walls at night, and why he’d no problem sitting on my veranda while I slept. I would _never_ sneak away from him; he could be my jailer as much as my guardian. Did my father know? Had they discussed it? Was Zelda the Failure the butt of everyone’s private jokes?

I had no desire to cry myself to sleep, so instead I dug out my journal. How to sum up the day without pouring self-loathing onto the page?

 

_I set out for Goron City today to make some adjustments to Divine Beast Vah Rudania._

_I still recall his eyes on me as I walked ahead. The feeling stayed with me so long, I grew anxious and weary. It is the same feeling I’ve felt before in his company... and still, not a word passes his lips. I never know what he is thinking! It makes my imagination run wild, guessing at what he is thinking but will not say._

_What does the boy chosen by the sword that seals the darkness think of me? Will I ever truly know?_

_Then, I suppose it’s simple. A daughter of Hyrule’s royal family yet unable to use sealing magic... he must despise me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth for a long time about "the village bicycle" but you know what? With automatons running around the world and the sheer number of gears and screws and shafts I had in my pack at the end of the game, I can't believe there are no bicycles. If we never saw them...? Well, that just speaks to their rarity, and the more apt the phrase "the village bicycle." So I kept it. Back me up, here, Nintendo, give Beedle a bike. A unicycle. Something.


	3. She Hates Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 4 (Daruk's Mettle) and Memory 5 (Zelda's Resentment), ending with Diary Entry #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Zelda present in the memory with Daruk, since she clearly states earlier on that she's heading to Goron City to make the changes to Rudania. While she could have been left in the city rather than belowdecks, I like the idea that she's down fiddling with controls while Daruk is showing off to Link.

The changes we needed the Sheikah slate to make on Vah Rudania required me to stay within the Divine Beast while Daruk piloted it from the main controls. After a few seconds of awkward silence when we arrived, Daruk grabbed Link and took him up to the helm to keep him company. I was engrossed in the map function of the Divine Beast, flipping through the different images and trying to deduce _how_ Rudania moved like it did, when a sudden shudder vibrated the hull around me. My head snapped up and I froze, jarred from my reverie. As I listened, trying to determine the source of the rumble, I heard Daruk roar and then the crack of exploding stone. I was safest where I was – the inside of Vah Rudania was fireproofed and easily thirty degrees cooler than the air outside of it – but I was never one to deny my curiosity.

I was making my way to the helm when Link charged down the ramp towards me.

He had his mouth open, and a breath drawn to shout, and for a moment I almost thought he would scold me. Instead, his eyes widened as he saw me, unharmed, and his jaw shifted. It was almost like he was physically cutting off the words he had meant to say. He nodded, once, and then sheathed his sword.

“What has happened?”

“Little bit of an earthquake,” Daruk’s voice called down from above. “We tend to forget Death Mountain is an active volcano. They don’t call it _Death Mountain_ for nothing.”

“What was that shouting?” I pressed, pushing past Link to approach Daruk – or, rather attempting to. Link's arm shot out to bar my path, and I walked right into it. It was like an iron bar across my abdomen. I coughed a protest and staggered backwards. “I beg your pardon!”

“Don’t... don’t come up here,” Daruk said, a bit awkwardly. “I can protect myself from the bigger boulders, but I can’t guarantee I can do the same for you. I’m moving Rudania closer to Goron City, to drop you both off someplace a bit more sheltered. Neither of you can do anybody any good with your skull caved in from all these rocks that haven’t been shaken loose in decades.”

I glared at Link. “You could have _said_ that.”

He drew a breath as if to rebut – finally! maybe I could just scream at him and be done with it – but Daruk cut him off. “Little guy is all action and no talk, Princess. That’s exactly what you want in a protector. Right, little guy?”

Link’s jaw snapped shut and I saw the subtle shift that indicated he wasn’t going to let himself speak. What sort of vitriol was he holding back? What terrible things was he keeping himself from launching at me?

“Very well,” I sniffed. “I will go back to the guardian stone and finish my analysis of the map.”

“Good call, Princess,” Daruk called. I turned on my heel and retraced my steps. I didn’t need to look back to know that the other Hylian on Rudania was precisely three paces behind.

 

*

 

He stayed there for five. stinking. _weeks_. Always three steps behind. Once we got back to the Castle, we resumed the routine we’d settled into before: Link allowed me to avoid him as much as possible during my day-to-day activities, but the instant I diverged from my regular schedule, he appeared as if by _magic_. I didn’t want to believe he was spying on me, but it was the _only_ possible explanation.

It was the single most aggravating thing I had ever been exposed to in my life.

I started to tell him – Link, I’m only going down into the lower levels of the castle, I do _not_ need you to accompany me. He would look me in the eye, nod, let me walk away, and then settle into step three paces back.

He drove me to distraction! I eventually decided that if he was going to follow me around, at least I could get some benefit from it. When I could take it no more, I took what research I had on the relics Purah told me were more properly called _shrines_ and went in search of one in particular: it was called the _Tena Ko’sah Shrine_ in the books, and it was mentioned more than once as the first and most straight-forward of the shrines to have been built. More than one passage mentioned it being a benchmark for the others, and how many had outright copied its interior. Every mention of it, though, included an odd symbol from ancient Sheikah script that I didn’t readily recognize. I decided to go to Kakariko before proceeding to the Shrine – the exact opposite direction, but the longer I was out of the Castle, the better – and get a translation from Impa.

She was present in the village, for once. She welcomed Link warmly, but only after exhausting the range of pleasantries she could exchange with me. I had suspected Link had studied with Impa, but the confirmation irked me more than I expected.

“Been eating your sneaky greens, my young friend?” Impa asked him, in teasing tones.

He shrugged and then nodded, with just a hint of a sly smile. She laughed, patted him on the shoulder, and asked for the symbol that had troubled me.

Her face fell when I showed it to her, using the image-capture feature of the Slate. “That does not translate directly. It is a shorthand, of a sort... it was accepted to mean, _never forgotten in vigil and sacrifice_.”

“Why would they write that after every mention of the shrine?”

“Tena Ko’sah is a _name_ , my Princess,” Impa informed me softly.  “Whoever the shrine was named for, likely gave his life to its creation. Possibly his spirit remains within, protecting it.”

“So entering the shrine could give us access to an ancient Sheikah, someone with knowledge of how the shrines were built and what purpose they serve?”

“Yes, theoretically. But likely, too, there would be a trial before the spirit could be reached, and the trial itself would deplete it until its soul was too weak to impart much wisdom.”

“Even a simple yes-or-no could be all we need to turn the tide,” I asserted, and Impa shook her head with a smile. “If there is a way into those shrines, Princess, I trust in you more than anyone else to find it.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say, a bit shocked by the compliment. It had been a long time, indeed, since someone had given me such a vote of confidence. Well... somebody besides the Champions, but I really felt they were compelled to seek positivity.

After leaving Kakariko with my shadow yet three paces behind, I decided enough was enough. Perhaps the reason father hadn’t respected my wishes before was I hadn’t phrased them with enough command in my tone. He was training me to rule, after all; even if my sealing powers miraculously emerged in the next ten minutes and we easily eliminated the Calamity Ganon when it awoke, I would still someday be tasked with the leadership of Hyrule. I would simply command my appointed knight to _not_ accompany me to the shrine in Tabantha.

I stopped on the road, turned to Link, and tipped up my chin. “I have decided I have no more need for your company on this voyage. The roads are clear. I am travelling into Tabantha, as you know; I hereby give you leave to pursue whatever business you might have in the area. You are _not_ to follow me.”

“My life is yours,” he said, although his tone was one of reminder, and not consent.

“Well, then. I reserve the right to send it away for awhile. Off with you, then.”

I turned around without bothering to see if he’d listened. I managed to contain my curiosity for the better part of an hour, but when I _still_ hadn’t heard any footsteps behind me I simply had to glance back.

The road was empty. It had worked!

I stopped for my horse, Royal, at the Ranch just southeast of the Castle Town, and made it all the way to the Tena Ko’sah shrine that afternoon. It was exhilarating, being out on my own; I’d almost forgotten the way freedom felt. I had as much time as I could want to try to puzzle out the workings of the shrine.

The first thing I noticed when I arrived was the pedestal stone next to the large symbol on the floor at what had to be the entrance to the shrine. I saw no door to open, but the heavy runework on the strange metal face was different than all the rest of the shrine’s construction and practically screamed _the entrance is here!_ I’d seen the Sheikah slate cause alterations in the surface of guardian stones before, so after translating as many of the runes as I could and examining every surface of the shrine, I touched the slate to the stone and hoped for the best.

There was no stirring to life of the stone, no strange metallic voice whirring out from the interior, no dancing blue lights or even the tiny blinking one that Robbie’s pet project sometimes displayed.

“Nothing. Just as I thought.” It was easier to speak my thoughts aloud when I was alone. I cast about, trying to run down the thread of reasoning from the books I had – rather foolishly – left back in my study. “It appears that this structure was designed to be exclusively accessed by the sword’s chosen one. But designs can always be worked around, at least I hope.”

Another few taps of the slate against the stone yielded nothing.

“How do I get inside? I need to activate it somehow.”

A horse’s whinny behind me, deeper in the ruins surrounding this shrine, dragged me from my study. Royal was calling a welcome to another horse.

Link’s horse.

 _The sword’s chosen one_.

What if I handed him the slate? Would the shrines spring to life at his touch?

It was too much. If _he_ could just _waltz into these shrines_ , while everyone else had to throw themselves at them, day and night? If I could be stymied by them for _years_ and he wings inside on, what, charm? His winning stinking personality?

No. Just _no_.

He reined in his horse and dropped off the stallion’s side into a crouch, clearly assessing the ruins for danger. He stood after a moment and trotted towards me, without _one drop_ of remorse on his face. He disobeyed a direct command of his Princess! My reserve snapped.

“I thought I made it clear that I am not in need of an escort,” I asserted, striding away from the shrine. “It seems I’m the only one with a mind of my own.”

I tried to appear regal. I tried to appear commanding. I tried to appear condescending. I tried everything I could muster to make it _sink in_ that I _preferred freedom_. But when I met his eyes, they were open wide. There was no guile on his face, just... surprise?

“I, the person in question, am _fine_ , regardless of the king’s orders.”

He flinched as I said it. It was so brief – little more than an eye blink – but I had become so keen to his relatively rare expressions of emotion that I couldn’t miss it if I wanted to.

“Return to the castle, and tell that to my father, _please_.” I pushed past him – I just couldn’t bear another minute of any of this – and headed straight for Royal. He would take me to the entrance of the Gerudo wastes, where I could flee to Urbosa. She might even be compelled to take me into Gerudo Town, where I knew Link could not follow.

As if the word summoned it, Link’s footsteps suddenly reached my ears. He was three paces behind me.

It was _unbearable_. I whirled around, clenched both fists, and shrieked. “And stop following me!”

His eyes flew wide. He wasn’t just surprised – he was _confused_. Hurt, perhaps, but definitely confused.

Oh, I was a horrible person. I’d completely misread him... or, rather, he’d completely misread me. He had no idea I didn’t want him around...

I sprang onto Royal’s back and wheeled him around, spurring him away from the ruins, away from my sudden shame.

How was I supposed to know what he thought of me if he never gave me any indication? I had no reason to suspect he thought of me as... as...

...as anything other than a royal pain in his ass.

Which he apparently had. And regardless what he thought, he’d just been doing his job.

I made it as far as the stable and inn at the foot of the Tabantha bridge and sent word for Urbosa. I hadn’t had much desire to write in my journal of late – most of my writing was going into the research logs I kept in my study – but I felt the need to almost pay penance for my behavior at the Tena Ko’Sah shrine.

 

_I said something awful to him today..._

_My research was going nowhere. I was feeling depressed, and I had told him repeatedly not to accompany me. But he did anyway, as he always does, and so I yelled at him without restraint._

_He seemed confused by my anger. I feel terribly guilty... and that guilt only makes me more agitated than I was before_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that 100 years before, with a much higher population of people living in Hyrule, there were far more inns and stables and such. There was probably trade and traffic to allow for more than four beds in a common room in a tent attached to a stable, you know? So you'll see me adding them in a lot as we move on.


	4. In Your Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 6 (Urbosa's Hand) and Memory 7 (Blades of the Yiga), ending with Diary Entry #4  
> Focus on explaining why Link was present in Memory 6 but not immediately around in Memory 7.

Urbosa arrived at the entrance to the canyon, the very edge of the desert, with two sand seals the next morning. Vah Naboris wasn’t far off – I could see the lightning sparking around the two strange humps on his back, off to the south – but the seals were a better solution for my proposed survey. While the creature called a  _camel_ that this Divine Beast had been modeled off of was supposedly perfect for roaming the desert, Naboris was a bit, well, huge.

There were four shrines I’d been able to verify in the desert, and several more I had strong reason to believe existed. I believed – and Robbie concurred – that one of these relics, somewhere, had to have been left dormant, rather than dead. We simply had to find that one, and use it to activate all the others. I had hoped it would have been Tena Ko’Sah, as the texts referred to it as a template for many others, but that hadn't panned out. My backup theory was that one of the many shrines in the desert, with limited access but for those hardy enough to traverse the wastes, would be the key. There would be a certain amount of poetic justice to putting the key to the Calamity Ganon’s defeat in Gerudo lands, since Ganon had once appeared as a rare male within the all-female race. 

Urbosa handed me a flask of an icy liquid, and bid me drink it before setting out. She had a set of them wrapped in cloth at her waist, preventing the chilled glass from coming into contact with her expanse of exposed skin. “You’ll need another one before noontime,” she said with a nod, "but that should keep your body temperature normal as the day heats up."  I was shivering uncontrollably the instant I took the first swallow of the elixir, but I finished the ration and gave her back the empty flask.

“Where’s your appointed knight?”

“I sent him back to my father, with the admonishment that I am fully capable of determining when and where I need protection.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. I managed the first sixteen years of my life just fine without him _or_ that _sword_.”

Urbosa had nothing to say to that, tossing me the handle of the towline for one of the sand seals she’d brought with her, and nodding to the shield laying on the ground nearby.

Then, we were off. The bright morning sun hit me and the shiver immediately ceased. My shoulders were sore within an hour, and I was sure to be miserable the next day, but I held on to the towline on my seal and I kept my balance on the Gerudo shield beneath me and I followed where Urbosa led.

We visited all four of the shrines I had marked, and not a one of them was active. All of them had dark faces where the terminal for the Sheikah slate should have been. I spent over an hour at each one, and was unable to get any sort of reaction out of any of them.

Our seals took us to the feet of Vah Naboris as dusk fell, and I felt the towline drop from stiffened fingers. I watched it land on the sand, and then my memory failed me.

I awoke to an explosion many hours later, to find the moon high in the sky and a chill to the air being staved off by a lamp nearby and piles of thick rugs beneath me. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I startled awake, and the noise compounded with a lack of memory of how I’d come to be there left me discombobulated. I flailed, struggling for composure, and caught a glimpse of someone else behind us...

Link. I was so sure I’d left him behind! My mind was still fogged over with sleep, and I lacked his ability to force myself silent.

“Wait, what- how did you- _what are you doing here?”_

I was sure to lose my reserve yet again, feeling the shout build in my throat, when Urbosa started to laugh. It wasn’t merely an amused chuckle, either, but a full-bodied, head-thrown-back, belly laugh.

“Wh-what’s so funny?”

Link rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile, and I got the distinct impression that _Urbosa_ had called him up here and then woken me with a flash of lightning. The meddlesome tart...

“Come. I’ve a place inside Naboris for you to get some real sleep,” Urbosa said once she’d controlled her amusement. “Your appointed knight and I will catch up elsewhere, as not to disturb your slumber. Again.”

“Yes, well. I appreciate that.”

Link stayed on the outside of the Divine Beast while Urbosa led me into its belly. There was a bed made up in one of the many side rooms, and Urbosa promised that she would not be put out at all by my using it. As she settled me in and turned to leave, I called out for her to wait.

“I... do not know why you summoned Link here, but I need a break from him. Please, Urbosa. You don’t know what it is like, to have your freedom so sharply curtailed.”

“It is possible, Princess, that his presence is what guarantees your freedom. But I understand. He and I will talk about ways he can fulfill his duty with as little inconvenience to you as possible.”

“Inconvenience?” I echoed, more than a little offended. “I did not say it was an-“

“Goodnight, Princess,” Urbosa said, with a smirk, and she shut the door.

I was far too tired to attempt to write in my journal, but her backhanded advice kept my mind awake long after my body had sunk into immobility. The implication that I wasn’t being fair to Link did not sit well with me, but I was far too tired to actually come up with any conclusions.

I awoke the next morning to find Naboris had walked us a bit closer to Gerudo Town. I suddenly had a desire to walk the open air markets of the Oasis, and Urbosa cautioned me to be keep a close eye on my purse and person.

“The Gerudo are not the only tribe in the desert, Princess. I would come with you, if not for a need to move Naboris farther from town and practice more with the controls you’ve unlocked for the cylinders inside. You should take your appointed knight-“

“I am perfectly capable of _shopping_ on my own, Urbosa.”

She shrugged. “Have it your way.”

I realized, once my feet were in the sand and Naboris was striding away, that I hadn’t seen Link all morning.

I was torn at the revelation. On one hand, perhaps it meant he had finally respected my wishes and gone back to my father. On the other hand, it was possible he had done so because I had finally been enough of a prat to disgust him so thoroughly that he didn’t care if I lived or died. Not that I was at any risk; the Gerudo had their own chief, and the Hyrulian monarchs were dedicated to the Gerudo having autonomy as much as possible. There was little to no animosity between the peoples, and I was _female_ to boot. The Gerudo I'd met had all viewed me as little more than a child, due to the relative size difference between them and the Hylian people, and had shown a wide protective streak. None as prominent as Urbosa’s, of course, but still.

A woman at the oasis wanted to sell me clothing that was altogether too revealing, even for the desert. I could see where it would help with air flow and keeping one cool, but surely it would also encourage dehydration? I would still to my chillwaters elixirs from Urbosa, thank you very much.

I enjoyed a thick slice of hydromelon and browsed the more exotic offerings. My books had said those red, thick-skinned fruits would actually provide the body resistance to damage from lightning and other electrical outputs, although I hadn’t ever seen an _electrical output_ that wasn’t lightning. I suppose shock arrows would count, but who had those just lying around? There was durian from Faron, as well, which made me think once more of Link.

I was so sure he was from Faron! Hadn't Mipha spoken of being saved by a youth from Faron? How could he possibly have run into Mipha if he grown up so far from a source of water as Tabantha? Mipha had been swept downstream to lake Hylia, if I remembered her story correctly, so the youthful Link _must_ have been in Faron. What business had he been tying up in Tabantha?

Why didn’t I just _ask him_? I mean, besides it being none of my business and the fact he likely despised me. I was a failure of a Princess, and he the chosen of the sword that sealed the darkness. He owed me nothing.

Those thoughts nearly proved to be my undoing, in the end. I walked idly around the oasis itself, watching the wind play with the water, kicking up waves that helped push out the sand that inevitably blew into the pool. It was a nearly perfect closed system, it seemed, assisted by a slow trickle of water up from a deeply buried spring. I realized, belatedly, that I had strayed far from the market, and was quite alone on the far side of the oasis.

It was lovely, at first. The wind and the soft lapping of waves, the shade from the nearby stones holding in the evening chill just as they would later hold in the daytime heat... it encouraged me to wander. A few steps this way, to snap a photo of the hydromelon vines. A few more steps that way, to where a cactus held up volt fruit not quite ripe enough for picking. A few more steps another direction, which became a few more, and even more, as I tried to get a good image of the mesas in the distance, frowning at the Sheikah slate like a painter choosing perspective.

The wind picked up again, and it dawned on me that I had moved far enough away from the oasis that I couldn’t hear the water anymore. Realizing how far I’d gone, I stopped and focused on my surroundings, reorienting myself so that I didn’t get turned around. The oasis was visible, some distance to my west; I could see the sunlight glinting off the water and strained my ears to see if I could hear the bustle of the market and utilize more than one sense as I traveled.

I could not hear the market. I could hear the wind, and the shift of sand against stone, and barely discernible footsteps whispering against the dunes.

They weren’t Link’s footsteps. It had only been a matter of a couple months, but already I felt like I would recognize his footsteps in my sleep.

My heart rate picked up. It was a fight to make my breath not rasp in my throat as the panic set in. I had gone too far away from the market for anyone to hear me shout. Urbosa and Vah Naboris were long gone, the lightning jumping between humps only barely visible on the southern horizon. I set my eyes on the distant marketplace, ran my hand quickly across my gear to make sure everything was securely in place – particularly the Sheikah slate – and burst into a run.

The sand made running far more difficult than I anticipated, and I was short of breath almost immediately. If I could just get to the oasis, I could call out, and the dozens of people there would be witness to who – or what – was chasing me. I might not be saved, but neither would I disappear without a trace. The footsteps behind me were suddenly thunderous, all attempt at stealth abandoned. Link never sounded like this; his strides were shorter, his steps were lighter, his breath was softer, his voice-

The person chasing me was male. Not Gerudo. He called out _something_ , something that made me spin briefly in shock to try to see my pursuer, and the language sounded very close to what the Sheikah used in antiquity. My heart leapt into my throat, the quick image of red armor and a white mask immediately confirming my worst fear. I fought for every ounce of energy I could force into my tiring limbs... I was being chased by Yiga. The Yiga Clan was after me.

They would not take me prisoner.

They would cut out my heart and leave my body to the desert sands.

I could not look back. I could not risk my footing, risk falling. I was too tired, too drained – the act of pushing back to my feet would leave my head and neck wide open as targets the Yiga would not be fool enough to miss. If I fell, I was dead.

Two more Yiga leapt out, just to either side of my path, and I instinctively skidded to a halt, spun around to run the other direction-

-directly toward the first Yiga.

There were three of them.

I tried to spin again, and run laterally to the path I had followed, willing to chase the lightning of Vah Naboris across the sands as a better alternative to certain death. My feet lost purchase in the sands and I fell.

I _fell_.

I was dead.

The three of them moved in around me, points on a triangle, and the one who had chased me into this trap was the first to reach me. His curved blade rose into the air; it was all I had eyes for. This blade was the last thing I would see. As it flashed in the light and sliced downward through the air towards me, I instinctively looked away.

The blow never struck.

I heard a voice – Goddess, please, let it be real – and the clash of metal on metal. Then a groan of life expiring, and the damp thud of a body hitting the ground. I cracked open my eyes to see the slumped-over form of the Yiga bleeding into the sand.

Link was there.

Link was between me and the other two Yiga, sword drawn, _not even winded_ , staring down my attackers. I was mostly behind him – I could only see him in profile – but he did not spare a glance back at me. The Yiga withdrew a step, then two. One feinted forward, and it was over so quickly I didn’t follow what happened; Link ignored the feint and lunged at the other, who was sprawled on the sand in a spray of blood only a heartbeat before his fellow's limp body was flung across him. Link wiped clean his sword on a scrap of cloth as the Yigas' weapons clattered to the ground, and tossed the soiled rag onto their corpses before they’d both fallen still.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, finally turning his attention to me as he slid the sword home over his shoulder.

I shook my head, still mesmerized by the intensity on his face. “No, I- no. I lost my footing is all, and was exhausted from the blasted sand.”

“Not just cuts, Princess,” he pressed, putting out a hand to help me to my feet. I took it, and the instant I had my balance, he withdrew. “Did you run into any stones in your flight, tumble anywhere? Your ankle turned as you fell, does it hold weight?”

“No, I am untouched. I can walk, I- I am fine.”

“I will send for Urbosa. Please, tell her if anything feels amiss, even if you believe it to only be muscle soreness from the run.”

And then _he turned to leave_. After all that, once he was assured of my safety, he sought to remove himself from my sight. He must have been following at a distance, to see my distress; quite the distance, given how quickly he moved and how long it took him to intervene. The idea of him crouching in the blowing sand, perhaps in the beating sun, just to spare me an _inconvenience_ was far more than I could tolerate.

“No!” He froze, canting a sideways glance at me. “No, please. I... I have taken quite the fright. I would... I would very much like to not be alone here, sir knight. I'm not sure where to go to wait for Urbosa that will be safe.”

He closed his eyes softly, and I counted ten seconds before they slid open again. His face was swept clear of any expression but polite acceptance. He turned so he stood at a right angle to me, and gestured with one hand for me to lead on. “My life is yours, Princess.”

I stepped past him, careful to avoid the bodies of the Yiga, and took four steps before I heard his footsteps behind me.

I let go a breath I hadn’t realized I held, and made my way back to the market, Link three paces behind.

My mind stayed stubbornly blank as I walked. I could not grasp a thought long enough to examine it; my only focus was on the lapping water of the oasis and the unspeakable comfort gleaned from the footsteps behind me.

He put a soft hand to my elbow when we entered the marketplace, and I stopped immediately. I found myself counting the times he touched me much like I had once counted the words I had heard him speak. He was speaking, now – to a Rito, of all things, a traveler in the marketplace. They seemed to know each other, and after a moment Link pressed a few rupees into the Rito’s hand – I thought I saw red – and the avian launched into the air, winging south.

“There is an inn,” he said softly, tipping his chin to indicate a building. “We will take rooms there.”

There was something unsaid hanging off the statement, but I was still too flustered to put it together. I nodded, and then reached out and tucked my fingers into the leather laces that held the bracer to his right forearm. He watched me do it, still as the sands, and then canted a look at my face that I couldn’t quite place. A furrow between slightly elevated eyebrows, a clench to his jaw, head slightly tilted to the side. A question he meant to ask, but wouldn’t? Couldn’t? Was it born of curiosity, or mistrust?

My answer was a pointed look at the inn, and then a step to the side, to indicate I would follow him. He turned his shoulder and bent his elbow so that his bracer was pressed to the small of his back, laces up. I fell into step immediately behind him, and let he lead us into the inn.

I was able to study him, from here. His eyes never stopped moving. He looked above, below, to the sides, casting glances behind him that always included a quick-but-thorough study of my face, my posture, my movements, constantly assessing my well-being. I imagined this was how it might feel to be in Daruk’s shield: protected from all sides. He led me into the inn, requested two rooms – _adjacent_ , non-negotiable – and then assured the innkeeper we would find them on our own once the keys were pushed across the desk. I clutched them in my free hand and allowed Link to pull me along in his wake. I made no sound as he pulled me past the rooms we'd been given without pausing; he strode unerringly to the end of the hall, pushed open a hatch, and then swung his arm around so my back was to the wall, in the corner next to the window. He disengaged my fingers from his bracer, pulled a ladder out of the hatch, and climbed it with two surging leaps. His head was above the level of the hatch for a few heartbeats, and then he dropped down and motioned for me to climb the ladder.

Within seconds, I was on the roof, the hatch shut behind us, and Link’s bracer proffered once more. I grasped the laces and was led across the roof towards a pedestal of stone. We circled around on a narrow ledge to find a ladder hidden in a cleft in the rock. Link gave me a gentle sort of shove onto the ladder, and I climbed without question. I expected him to climb behind me, but he surged up the rock wall itself, fingers finding purchase where my eyes could find none, keeping pace with me as I climbed the ladder.

He leapt the last few feet, landing on the top of the rock formation just as my head cleared the top of the ladder. I stepped onto the stone beside him, and he led me to the highest point of the rock, and then waved a hand at the leeward side of the stone. “You’ll be hard to see here, and out of the wind. It is the safest place to be, until Urbosa brings Naboris.”

I nodded, recognizing the blankness of my mind as _shock_ , and sat down in the spot he’d indicated, pressing myself against the stone. I lost almost all of my field of view from there, with only Link standing sentinel to occupy my wandering eyes. He began walking the perimeter of the stone pedestal, sword in hand, stopping frequently to listen.

I was starting to feel the frantic energy drain out of me when the ground began to tremble. It was rhythmic – doomdoom, doomdoom, doomdoom – and getting louder by the moment. Link turned south, a smile quirking one corner of his mouth up for just an instant before being wiped clean. He was expressionless when he waved for me to come look. I pushed up away from the rock I had rested against and crossed the stone pedestal, temporarily knocked off balance by the wind gusts I had been sheltered from. Link gestured to the south, and I turned and nearly laughed despite my state of shock.

Vah Naboris was _charging_ across the dunes, moving at a rate I wouldn’t have believed the ponderous Divine Beasts capable of. Lightning was arcing wildly, and a dust storm was being created by the churning feet of the mechanical creature. I waved, and saw the Divine Beast immediately slow to a stop.

“Let’s get to Urbosa before she levels the oasis,” I said, and Link gestured toward the ladder we had taken up. We were standing on the sand within minutes, and running across the intervening space a few minutes later. Naboris dropped to its knees and the door slid open. Link helped me in, and then we were rising up off the sands and disappearing back into the desert.

Urbosa gave me a frank inspection for any injuries, nodded grimly, and then launched into a growling sort of monologue about finding the Yiga and killing them in a number of ways, not all of which sounded possible, much less plausible.

“They’re dead, Urbosa,” Link was saying as the Gerudo Champion raged. “Urbosa. Urbosa, stop. Urbosa, _they’re dead_.”

“ _I heard you_!” she flung back, and then launched into another tirade – this one entirely in Gerudo, and mostly words I had never heard before.

Link chuckled – he was capable of a chuckle! what news! – and drew Urbosa up short. She turned and _glared_ at him. “Not even _you_ are flexible enough for _that_.”

Urbosa snorted – _oh_ how I wish I knew what she’d said! – and the fight seemed to go out of her. “You stay out of Gerudo Town, then, or else you’ll learn just how wrong you are.”

Link made a mocking sort of bow and fell silent, his face becoming impassive again. But for a moment, just a brief flash, he had shown a personality. He was a _person_ and not just the body behind the sword.

“He saved my life.” It took a moment before I realized I’d spoken aloud, but slowly Urbosa turned to look me over again. She seemed to see something in my eyes that she had missed on her first assessment.

“You’re still in shock, Princess. Let’s get you someplace warm and quiet. Come on, now. Off we go.”

“He saved me,” I told her, again, when we were alone. She helped me shrug out of my clothing – I was unspeakably filthy and hadn’t noticed until now – and promised to get my things cleaned while I slept. I didn’t care. “He’s never... no one’s ever... I’ve never been _polite_ to him, Urbosa. And he saved my life.”

“As he should,” she said. “And he will, again, as many times as necessary, no matter how badly you abuse him, until you’ve sealed Ganon away. Together. You understand that, right? You two are fated to work together, alone but for one another, at the end. He needs you alive as badly as you need him to _keep you_ alive.”

I nodded, dumbly, and she patted me on the head. “So do both of you a favor and stop making his job any harder than it needs to be, right? He’s a good kid, I promise you.”

“I... will. Thank you.”

She went still, before slowly pulling back to take a sharper look at my face. “Huh. That’s what did it, eh?”

“What? What’s what did what?”

She snorted again, shaking her head. “I should have figured you’d be one for the fairy tale.”

“Urbosa, you’re not making any sense.”

“Of course not. Get some sleep, Princess. You’re safe here.”

I nodded, laying down in the blankets she’d laid out for me, and waited until the door had clicked shut behind her. There was a Guidance stone in the room, and it put off more than enough light for me to write by, in addition to providing a loud enough hum to cover the scratching of pen tip to page.

 

_I am unsure how to put today’s events into words. Words so often evade me lately, and now more than ever._

_He saved me._

_Without a thought for his own life, he protected me from the ruthless blades of the Yiga Clan. Though I’ve been cold to him all this time... taking my selfish and childish anger out on him at every turn... Still, he was there for me._

_I won’t ever forget that._

_Tomorrow, I shall apologize for all that has transpired between us. And then... I will try talking to him. To Link. It’s worth a shot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda's reaction at the end of Memory 7 launched this ship into orbit as far as I'm concerned.


	5. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is SO MUCH character development that has to happen between Memory 7 and Memory 8, not to mention a significant gap of time as they travel across the map from Gerudo to Eldin. No memories in this chapter, but concludes with Journal Entry 5.

Urbosa dropped us off on the top of the mesa overlooking the great labyrinth on the eastern edge of the Gerudo wastes. There was a pass there, to the north east, that led out into the relatively sparsely populated lands to the west of lake Hylia.

We passed the morning in silence, as Link and I took turns leading the way; I took point through open terrain, while he led through the rougher lands.

We stopped for lunch before I had scraped up my courage to speak to him.

“I owe you an apology,” I said, standing to face him with my hands clasped behind my back.

He was crouched near the cook fire, roasting some of the goat he’d handily shot in the mountains that morning, and he furrowed his brow as he regarded me through the flames. He didn’t speak, but by this point I didn’t expect him to.

“I’ve been... well. Part of the reason it took me so long today to bring this up is I lack the language to describe my behavior. I think the strongest term I have is _prat_ , and that is no where near adequate. I have been vile towards you, and you have done nothing to deserve such treatment. I must humbly beg you to accept my apology.”

He waved me off with a ghost of a smile – _it’s nothing_ – and went back to cooking.

“No,” I pressed, taking a step closer to the fire. “It’s _not nothing_.” His eyebrows rose, a fraction of an inch, but it was enough. I’d surprised him by correctly guessing the words meant by his expression; I wasn’t sure whether to be self-congratulatory for my read or mortified by his doubt. “I... I am a _failure_ , Link. I have spent my entire life trying to summon forth the sealing power and I have _failed_. And rather than be happy for your drawing forth the sword, I instead selfishly coveted your success. I have envied you, Link, and that is not a trait I exhibit well.”

“I know,” he said, softly. “It’s alright.”

“It is _not alright_ ,” I countered, and another ghost of a smile crossed his face.

“From now on, it will be alright. Fair enough?”

“No. But I appreciate your willingness to look past this hideous flaw in my character.”

He shook his head and handed me a trencher of roasted meat and apples, making short work of his belt knife to cobble together the meal. “Urbosa spoke to me of it. I took no offense.”

I sank to the ground beside him with a sigh and set into my lunch as neatly as I was able to in the wilds as we were. “I would like to know what Urbosa said. I may be more indebted to her than I know.”

He shrugged, and made no effort to answer. I waited a bit, watching him eat – he ate quickly but neatly, as if perpetually starved and loathe to waste a morsel – and then, with another little upsurge of courage, elbowed him in the ribs.

He twisted to the side and froze, fixing me with a pointed stare.

“Now that I know you are capable of speech, I will not rest until you have relented to talk to me.”

His eyes slowly widened in surprise, and then scrunched into what might have been the beginning of a smile, before his shoulders bounced in what could have been a silent laugh and he shook his head. He returned to his lunch.

“What did Urbosa say?” I pressed, and his eyes crinkled again.

“Much the same as you,” he admitted, and I felt a thrill of triumph. “Although... more kindly worded.”

“Well, I assure you, I am owed no such kindness in this. That I was too craven to speak to you all morning only emphasizes the fact.”

“If you have need of Courage, the Spring is just on the other side of the lake,” he said, and I almost danced in my seat at the offhanded comment. He’d spoken without being commanded to! Already, so much progress.

“On the northern end of Dracozu Lake, I am well aware. Although I have not visited in some time. I suppose it would mollify my father, if we stopped there along the way?”

Link just did a noncommittal sort of shrug-nod and I took it as an affirmative. He stomped out the fire when we’d finished our meals, and did a quick but thorough job of concealing the fact there had ever been a fire here at all.

We skirted north of the lake, and I spent the rest of the day pondering how best to draw him out. He led the way into Deya Village as dusk fell, and I was astonished at the greeting he received.

“Link! Link’s back! Link! Link, stay with us! Link, sup with the grandmother! Link!”

It seemed everyone in the village streamed out of their homes to speak to him. I could have been a donkey hauling his gear, for all the more attention I received. He waved off most of the well-wishes, stopping only twice, and then only because he was swarmed over and forcibly hugged. He seemed uncomfortable with the contact, but allowed it.

He led the way to a small house on the far end of town; it seemed well-tended but empty. The windows were shuttered and the door sealed against the weather. It took a moment to open the door, and the swirl of air that escaped when the door pushed in was thick with dust.

“We’re set to air it out next week, Link! You’re early!” an older child called from where he’d perched upon the roof. He seemed dismayed that Link had found the home out of sorts.

“I’ve never feared a bit of dust, Milo. Worry not.”

The boy beamed and bounded away.

“Wait here,” he said to me, and then pushed into the house. There as a sudden rush of wind and one of the side windows flew open, dusty air surging out of the home. Air was sucked past me like a bellows, throwing my hair into my face and threatening to knock me over. Another _whoosh_ of air shot out the window, and another, each one with less dust than the one before. Link appeared a moment later, his arms full of drop clothes and dust-covered sheets that he dropped outside the door.

“Korok leaf stashed over the mantle,” he said by way of explanation, and motioned me in.

The house was small, and clearly built for two. There were two narrow cots on either side of the room, with a thick woven rug between them. The hearth was on the wall opposite the door, centered in the house, with a few simple chairs scattered about and a single small table just to the right of the door.

“Whose home is this?” I asked as Link closed and barred the door behind us. He knelt at the hearth and had a fire going while I sat in one of the chairs and waited for his answer.

“Mine,” he finally offered. “Or, it was meant to be mine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He froze as he rose from the fresh fire in the hearth, half-crouched in front of the flickering flames. The light at his back made him seem dangerous; feral, even. It utterly hid the expression on his face.

“No,” he answered, softly. “But I somehow doubt you’ll stand for that.”

“I am curious,” I admitted. “But I have wronged you enough. I will not pry for a story you do not wish to share.”

We were both silent, then. He worked to prepare dinner – I was only comfortable with the theory behind food preparation, and not the application – while I went through the images I’d captured on the Sheikah slate. Many of them were of poor quality, or ultimately frivolous. I deleted most of them. A few, I felt compelled to keep... most recently, the image of the precise spot the Yiga Clan had cornered me. I must have captured the image when first I wandered around the oasis that morning. It struck me as important, somehow – as if I needed to remember what had happened at that spot. I saved the image of the shrine to Tena Ko’Sah and the birch grove by the Hylia river, as well as a few others. They weren’t important from a research perspective, but I was just loathe to erase them.

He handed me a bowl of soup, and sat down at the table across from me to eat his own meal.

“I was young,” he said, staring at his bowl as if looking at something else entirely. “I was close friends with a girl... Saria, her name. Our families decided we would marry, when we came of age. It meant nothing to us... nothing more than we were more likely to be forgiven for our mischief when we were together. One night... One night, she didn’t come home. Our families went looking for her the next day, but I was forced to stay behind.” He glanced around the room, his face haunted. Still, his eyes seemed to focus on things that were no longer there. “Two nights. One long day in between. I hated this room, by the time the next morning dawned, and I couldn’t stay here another minute. I went looking for her, myself.”

He fell silent, then, and turned his attention back to his soup. He ate as he always ate – quickly, deliberately, neatly – but his mind did not seem to be in the present. I was lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to pry, but I didn’t want to _force_ this. I did not want him to come to resent me; that I had avoided it thus far was surely the only blessing I’d ever received.

“I have to assume you did not find her as you remembered her,” I offered as the shadows grew long and the fire popping was the only other sound.

He shook his head. “No. She had hidden from bokoblins in the fens on the south side of the lake for the better part of two days. I had a little wooden sword my father had given me, to begin training with, and I... I killed the bokos who were searching for her and brought her home. She had taken sick with a chill and did not survive the week. Our families... fought, as sometimes happens in times of tragedy. My father spent more time at the Castle. My mother moved back to Tabantha, where she had been born; she lives there still. My father comes here from time to time – it was his father’s home, and his father’s before him, and he intended it to be mine, someday. Mine, and Saria’s.”

So many answers, to questions I hadn't known to ask. I was again at a loss for words.

“I am so sorry, Link,” I managed. “I cannot imagine what that must have been like, as a child.”

His eyes met mine, at long last, and there were shadows there not cast by firelight. “No. And I am glad of it. It is not a memory I wish on someone, and so it is not one I frequently share.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” I whispered.

He reached out and took the bowl from in front of me, carrying it to the fire to scrape and clean. “My life is yours,” he answered. “I suppose that might as well include my words, also.”

I cast about for something to say in response, but before I had even an inkling of how to reply, he gestured to the bed on the right-side of the room. “You’ll want that one.”

“Dare I ask why?”

He shot me a look that might have been a smile, had it not been cloaked by the shadows from the fire. “You don’t want to know, no.”

“Very well, then. Good night, sir Link.”

“Good night, Princess.”

*

Our plans to visit the Spring of Courage the next day were briefly delayed by a letter from Robbie being delivered first thing in the morning. Those Rito postmen were uncanny in their ability to find people; the one who knocked on Link's door seemed to be more than passingly acquainted with my appointed knight.

Robbie was working with the Guardians in and around Hyrule Castle, and had been researching the location of the missing columns said to contain hundreds more Guardians – of different sizes and types – in his off time. He’d found many references to ‘towers buried in the ground’ that seemed to be the key to everything: the shrines, the guardians, the entire ancient grid, _everything_. There were supposed to be pillars or towers full of Guardians underneath Hyrule Castle, but no matter how deep we’d dug, we hadn’t found any sign of them. We did not yet know if the columns of Guardians and the towers that provided the power for the Shrines were the same thing; it was supposed to be the direction of my own research, had the sealing power not proved so elusive.

Robbie had stumbled across an almost offhand mention of something called _the woodland tower_ in one text, and from context cues realized he recognized the position. A site survey was unlikely to turn much up, and he instead thought a higher vantage point might reveal more about the lay of the land and the best place to begin excavations. He could ask a Rito, but he thought the better option would be to have me take several images with my Sheikah Slate from multiple vantage points he had listed on a separate page.

“I’m not sure, Princess,” Link said, in the slow tones of deep thought as he mulled over the letter. I’d handed it to him when I finished reading it, much to his surprise. “Eldin is quite the journey, and I am sure you’re eager to be back in the Castle...”

I discarded four snotty replies before I caught the glint in his eye and realized _he was teasing me_. The surprise must have registered on my face, because his shoulders twitched with a silent laugh and he handed the letter back to me with a ghost of a smile.

“The fastest way to Eldin from here is to follow the road between the Dueling Peaks and then north through Kakariko and Gopongo. Robbie is suggesting this tower is directly under the site of the military training camp; we should definitely avoid a direct route through the area if you want to make even remotely decent time. Snaking through the mountains is a longer distance than cutting across Central Hyrule, but Necluda and Hateno have far fewer people and we’ll be stopped less.”

“It makes a certain amount of sense. When the towers were buried, there could have been a strong cultural memory of the Guardians as a protective or military force. I wonder if we were to check around other prominent forts and garrisons... but, no, first we would need to determine what geographically and geologically to look for when searching for towers.”

Link already seemed resolved to my tendency to speak aloud when pondering a new bit of information about the ancient technology. He had the house – his house, rather – picked up and closed up before I mentally worked my way through the rest of his words.

“The route is perfectly reasonable, by the way. I imagine this is one of the many instances where your experience with routes and locations will trump my own.”

He replied with a shallow sort of bow; the sun was just peeking over the mountainous horizon and already we were outside of town and moving east. We followed the edge of Deya lake as it wound south and became more marshland than open water.  Link led us on a different route to the Spring of Courage than my mother had taught me as a child; she’d brought me south to the little village of Zonai, and then followed the Dracozu river north. Link was taking the far more direct route, which was over some rather rugged hillsides. Had I been wearing my normal boots and tunic, it would have been no hardship; in the white dress I dug out of my pack for the Shrine, however, it was slow going indeed. Link bore it all with the same patient persistence he applied to everything else; he was careful to give me assistance while keeping his eyes carefully turned away from the exposure inherent in rock climbing in a dress. He was the perfect gentleman, in all honesty, and it reminded me once again of how my first impression of him had been unjust. Still, in the future I would wear my boots and pants when we traveled and just change at the Springs.

When we stepped into the actual Spring, he stood aside and let me approach the statue of the Goddess Hylia. He turned, sword out, and faced away from me; watching the entrance to guarantee my privacy.

I could not help but remember the first night of our acquaintance; I’d seen him standing a similar watch over me, below the walkway between my study and my rooms, and assumed he was spying. He had probably kept the same watch every night since then, but hidden from my eye so as to maintain my perception of privacy.

How had I become so proficient at reading his expressions, and yet remain so completely wrong about everything else?

The Spring felt... different... today. It had been a long time since I’d stood in these waters, but the memory was strong. There was a... I don’t even know. Electricity? Tingle? Some barely-tangible power rippling along the surface of the water.

I rested my palms on the surface of the water as I stood submerged to my waist and regarded the ancient statue before me. The only idea I had about what I was supposed to be doing came from my few sparse memories of my mother, kneeling beneath the moon on the walkway that led to what had once been _her_ study. Her face was serene, her eyes closed, her chin tipped up to bathe her face in light. I had seen the light come from _her_ , I was sure of it – just a flicker, before she rose to her feet and found me watching.

In the many years since, I had tried for that mindset, since I had nothing else to go off of. There were no documents left behind from the countless generations of women I had descended from. They had passed their information on by word of mouth and direct teaching; grandmothers and aunts available to step in should something have happened to the mother. But not for me; when it came to female relations I suffered in abject poverty.  I understood the need to keep the information secret, to never write it down so that it could never be found and used against us... but in this case the security had been its own downfall.

I wiped that thought out of my mind and aimed for serenity. Peace. Calm. Open acceptance. I would take whatever the Goddess saw fit to give me.

_Please, Please, Please. I am here, I am willing. Please, Please, Please. I will be whatever you need me to be. Please, Please, Please. Just tell me what you need me to do. Please, Please, Please._

“Princess,” a soft voice said, near to my ear, as something was wrapped around my shoulders.

I jumped, startled, and noticed it was full dark. My body was chilled, my feet numb, my dress soaked through and clinging to me in a way that should have been embarrassing if I wasn’t so thoroughly exhausted.

“What- How- But-“

“Come. You’re frozen and it’s dark. I have a fire going, and a bit of shelter set up so you can change into dry clothes.”

He had his hands on my shoulders, holding whatever cloth he’d designated as a blanket to my clammy skin. I let him lead me through the water, away from the statue of the Goddess, and over to where he had a fire hidden in a sheltered spot in the ancient stone structure around the Spring.

“Should we have a fire here?”

I felt rather than saw him shrug. “I’ve spent a lot of time in this Spring, and have always put my campfires in this little spot. She’s never seemed to mind.”

There was something there – not in his words, but in the linkage of thoughts the words inspired in my mind – but I was far too fatigued to chase it down. He handed me a flask and I drank it without question, and let him lead me. I abandoned all hope of thought and merely followed where he directed me to go – towards the fire, into a pile of cloth, head down, eyes closed, asleep.

I woke before dawn to find the fire still crackling, and Link sitting cross-legged nearby. I was in a sheltered alcove, using his Champion’s Tunic for a blanket... along with a hood, and a puffy bit of material that felt like it was full of goose down. I had the matching down-filled pants tightly rolled for a pillow, and an empty flask near at hand. I couldn’t quite fathom how he carried so much gear with him, but he must have emptied his pack to make a bed for me. Everything smelled a little like wood smoke – there was a campfire a few paces away, after all – but the clothes also smelled of horses and sunshine and rain and the almost acrid smell of magic that seemed to linger wherever the Master Sword had been. It was nature and steel and I spent more time than I should admit breathing it in.

Link was wearing just the thin undershirt he wore beneath the tunic, with his back to the fire but far enough away he likely wasn’t getting much warmth from it. He had his sword laid out across his knees again, and I felt safe and warm enough to go back to sleep. I didn’t, though; I pushed out of the makeshift bedding and he was immediately on his feet.

“Thank you,” I said, deciding I needed to start there first, and make a habit of acknowledging everything he did for me. He moved smoothly into a more relaxed stance as I spoke; perhaps I had startled him, as well. “I felt... like perhaps things were different this time. I was... wrong, of course. Again. But I did not note the passing of time and likely would have eventually passed out in the water if you had not pulled me from my devotions. So I thank you for your intervention.”

“Urbosa mentioned that had happened before,” he admitted as he crouched before the fire and set about making breakfast.

“Did you stay awake all night?”

He shrugged; I took it for a yes.

“Again, I thank you.”

Another shrug, although this one involved his head slightly more to one side, and his eyes cast away. _It was no matter_ , I interpreted.

“I am sorry for wasting our time. I-“

“It was not a waste of time,” he countered, with a touch of heat to his voice that shocked me silent. “Even if the time spent was not as lucrative as you might wish, still it was for good cause. None of this is your fault, Princess.”

“I should be-“

“You are.”

I blinked at him, surprised by the interruption as much as the finality to the tone. He responded by handing me a plate covered with a mushroom omelet that put to shame anything I ever ate in the Castle.

“How are you such a good cook?”

It was his turn to be surprised, it seemed. “I like food,” he answered, a little too quickly.

I watched him narrowly over the fire and my plate of food as he made quick work of his own – noticeably larger than mine – omelet. He seemed to feel my eyes on him, and shot me increasingly unsettled looks as he ate. I wasn’t sure if proximity to the fire was raising the color in his cheeks, or if he was actually blushing.

“The more time I put into it, the less I eat,” he muttered as he took my plate and cleaned the cookwear over the fire. Even this confession seemed to be a rather narrow interpretation of the truth.

He was a glutton! Oh, to have finally found a flaw in him, and to have it be _charming_ to boot. Not to mention easy to exploit. “I will be sure to bribe you with food whenever you are particularly miserly with information.”

He regarded me for a moment with what could only be a vain attempt to hide his horror. He seemed to slowly realize I was teasing him, however, and a slow sort of smile overtook his features. I realized, perhaps a bit belatedly, that I was still rather snuggly ensconced in his clothes, and a flurry of butterflies erupted in my stomach. This was... none of this was what I expected.

_Get your head on straight, or you’re no better than the Gerudo. Or Mipha. Or... Goddess’ own truth, probably every woman who spends any amount of time with him, at all, ever, anywhere._

I pushed out of his clothing, handing him his tunic, which he pulled over his head and quickly settled into place. I tried to fold up the rest of his things, and he simply directed me at a corner of the ruined stone structure where I could duck behind a half-collapsed wall and change into my own sturdier gear. I was hyper-aware of his presence as I stripped out of the still-damp white dress and methodically pulled on my pants, boots, tunic, and belts. When I stepped around the crumbled wall, Link had packed away all his extra clothes and removed most of the evidence of our fire.

“Where did it all go?” I asked as I used my reflection in the still water of the Spring to braid my hair away from my face.

“In my pack,” he answered, patting the small cylinder that was strapped at the small of his back.

“How does it all fit in there?”

He winked at me – _actually winked at me_ – and said, “Magic.”

I shook my head and barely bit back a laugh. I’m not sure what magic could make a full set of snowquill armor disappear into a pack smaller than my head alongside weeks’ worth of food and an elixir for every eventuality, but I had a pretty good idea how to get the truth out of him.

We skirted the southern side of the Dueling Peaks, doing a bit of light climbing to save us from the countless merchants and travelers on the road that ran between the two halves of the mountain. We caught the road east of the mountain, crossing the Big Twin bridge and making our way to Kakariko, arriving just past midday, thanks to our early start. I bought my bribe at the little grocery just before we left town, not stopping to visit anyone because my closest advisors weren’t present: Impa was out excavating another source of Guardians, at the far northern point of Akkala; Robbie was heading the laboratory outside Castle Town, and Purah was working to create her own Sheikah Slate at her laboratory in Hateno Village.

“Apple pie,” I pronounced, as we made our way out of town, to skirt west around the uplands bordering Kakariko and then turn north towards the islands in the Rutala River that made up the village of Goponga.

Link’s head snapped around to where I was trailing a few steps behind him as I pretended to fumble with my packs. I held out the treat – still slightly steaming from the oven – and waved it invitingly towards him.

As he opened his mouth to speak, I cut him off. “Yours, for the low, low price of an explanation of how you cram everything into that pack.”

His eyes widened comically and then his face was swept completely clean of all emotion. “That didn’t take long to circle around.”

“I am known for my researching abilities. It was only a matter of time, sir knight.”

“Koroks,” he said, and then put a hand out for the pie as if that was a sufficient answer.

“What do Koroks have to do with it? Where did you even _find_ a Korok, I thought they were myths!”

He looked at the apple pie with what could only be described as longing and then shot me a rather dirty look, truth be told. “Great Hyrule Forest. They help the Deku tree guard the Master Sword. And one of them can enchant packs to hold far more gear than should be possible. Now, if you’re done taunting me?”

I provided him the treat, and watched with great amusement as he quickly tucked it away.

“You wouldn’t need to eat so much if you slept more,” I informed him.

He flashed me a look over his shoulder that I had a hard time reading. _Side-eye, mouth twisted to one side, slightest hint of a frown_. Maybe he’s heard the admonishment before? Or perhaps I was stating the obvious?

“Perhaps I forego sleep as an excuse to eat so much,” he countered, rather rakishly, and I found myself laughing so hard I subconsciously reached for something to hold on to, to steady myself. When I wiped the water from my eyes, I saw Link had put his hand out, and I’d once again threaded my fingers through the lacing of his bracer.

It was tempting to leave it there. He had improved so drastically in my eyes, in such a short time, that I wasn’t making good choices when it came to him. I’d just bribed him with pie, for goodness sake, and now I wanted to hold on to him as we walked? I gave the bracer a little squeeze, because I’m apparently a foolish girl still, and then let his hand drop.

For what it was worth, it hung in the air for a long moment, as if he was giving me the chance to change my mind and take hold once more. That was more likely a completely improbable flight of fancy, and such foolishness from me was probably the reason I hadn’t yet been granted the sealing power that was my birthright; it was closely linked with Wisdom, after all, and right now I seemed to have _none_.

We hopped from ferry to ferry as the sun sunk below the horizon, arriving on Linebeck Island, on the north end of the village, just after full dark. We had both agreed that we preferred the inn on Linebeck to the one on Goponga Island proper, as it was less used but better maintained.

The innkeeper – a very round woman named Gretta – recognized us both and gushed over the wonderful choice I had made in making Link the captain of my guard.

That wasn’t at all the way it happened – or a valid title, since he was actually the entirety of my personal guard – but Link was too much a gentleman to expose my petty behavior when first we met, and if he wasn’t going to drag me through the mud then I was happy to stay silent on the matter. She gave us the big double room on the top floor, that actually was more like an apartment with three rooms all adjoining a central sitting room. I’d stayed there before, but Link needed a few minutes to explore the entire space before deciding it was safe enough for me to enter.

“Did I just see you _sniff_ the _walls_?” I asked as he locked the door behind me.

He shrugged, which was confirmation enough for me.

“What are you hoping to smell?”

“Bananas,” he answered.

“Bananas,” I echoed, dumbly.

He sighed and dropped into an overstuffed armchair near the freshly lit hearth – Gretta had sent someone up to lay a fire and open the room as soon as she saw me on her doorstep – and regarded me with that stoic look on his face that was so unnerving.

“The Yiga Clan, as a group, is utterly obsessed with bananas. It’s all they eat. They claim it provides them with their power. If you find a man on the road selling his body weight in bananas, it is a certainty that he is Yiga in disguise. They go _no where_ without bananas. So, yes, Princess, I’m searching for bananas.”

I sank into the chair opposite him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Kill enough Yiga, and the statistics write themselves. Every last one of them has had bananas on them.”

“How... how many Yiga have you killed?”

“Many,” he said simply.

I couldn’t help but shiver. “It seems... different. Killing bokoblins or moblins seems worlds apart from killing men. Misguided, murderous, terrifying men, but still... men.”

“They say Ganon was a man, once,” Link countered. “You and I have killed him countless times, as the ages bring him back to us in an endless circle.”

I was staring at him in consternation for several minutes before I realized it. “I don’t know where to start with that,” I confessed. “Are you saying you believe the Princess and the Hero from the legends were actually _us_?”

Link tipped his chin towards the sword that seals the darkness. “You asked me once... if it _talks_ to me. And it doesn’t. There are no words. But since I’ve had it, when I sleep, I have dreams that are... mine, but not. I’m a different age, of different parentage, from a place with a different name. I was raised by forest spirits or as an orphan with my uncle or just a goat herder in a tree house, but always... me. And the Princess may have gone into hiding or be an accomplished archer or the actual physical embodiment of the Goddess Hylia in mortal flesh, but every time I come across her in the dream, she’s always... you.”

My chin was in my hands as I just tried to take in everything he said. He had a cadence to his voice that was hypnotic, an intensity in his eyes that was enthralling. I had been mesmerized by him before, but this time I was willing to freely admit it.

“You think they’re the memories of the sword?”

He nodded. “I saw myself walking towards it, over and over and over again. I felt it _recognize_ me the moment I drew near. It wouldn’t always let me draw it forth immediately – I had to be strong enough, or my need had to be great enough – but all the trials I must complete before winning the blade are always for my own benefit. The sword never needs them – it knows me better than I know myself.”

The next step, logically, was laid out before me, but I couldn’t make myself take it. I didn’t have to, though; Link saw what I struggled with and pressed the issue himself.

“When you walked into the throne room the day I met your father, I _knew you_. The sword knew you, _knows_ you. That’s how I can be so certain that the problems you’re facing – with your father, with the power, with the Springs, with the devotions – they’re not your fault. They’re your trial, they’re whatever you have to do so you’re ready for the power that you already have claim to. Whatever that power is, it knows you as surely as the sword did, as I did. You are the same Zelda that has defeated Ganon over and over again, innumerable times, and you will do it again.”

“Don’t do that,” I whispered, aghast.

“Don’t do what?” he asked, pushing forward out of his chair. “Did I offend-“

“Don’t... say such things to me, I don’t deserve them,” I managed. “Not from you. I have barely been civil to you; to have you say-“

“I believe in you,” he countered, gently, now that he did not fear having overstepped his bounds. “I would not pledge my life to you if I didn’t. If you would rather I not speak of it...? That suits me just as well.”

“That, then,” I said, latching onto the words in a desperate bid to redirect the conversation to something I could actually grasp. “Why do you so often refuse to speak? Your voice is...” _Oh, Zelda, you idiot, don’t tell him that_. “...not unpleasant. Your words are not uncultured. You clearly have opinions based on experience. Why opt for silence?”

The question seemed to pain him, but that also seemed to indicate he intended to answer. I sank back to wait him out, losing many long minutes to the flicker and pop of the fire in the hearth.

“When I met Mipha... you know that story, yes?”

I nodded, not willing to speak and perhaps divert him.

“She looked like a child. Granted, _I_ was a child. But even though she was some years older than me, Zoras age slowly and she looked far younger. And to my eyes, she was... she was Saria. Just a child, in unfamiliar water, wishing she had some way to get home. So, I helped her, as I wished someone would have helped Saria. And when we reached her father she told this grand story of how I had so gallantly defended her... and I decided, then, to let her. I would rather she ascribe to me the traits she needed or wanted to see, than to burden her with the true motive behind my action, than to injure her kind heart with the story of my friend's death. And it became... more than a habit, I suppose. I know I can bear these burdens, but there is no reason to believe anyone else I meet, can. If I was selected out to be a Hero, then already I am something I have no control over. If others want to heap other titles upon me, other burdens, other hopes and dreams and aspirations and wishes and prayers, then that is my lot. As time has gone on, more and more eyes are upon me, and the need to maintain the precedent I have set grows larger. In the end, I serve everyone better with my silence.”

My hands were covering the lower half of my face, and I had no memory of them rising from my lap. “You surely don’t intend to live your life that way, do you? Accumulating the burdens of others, never laying down your own, and bearing it all in silence?”

Link shrugged, uncomfortably; it wasn’t a substitute for an answer, this time, but rather an actual unconscious show of discomfort. “You’ve read the legends. Ganon falls, the Princess goes on to lead Hyrule into a golden age, and what becomes of the Hero?” He pushed himself to his feet and stepped to the hearth, leaning heavily on the wall by the fire. His features were cloaked in shadow, but still I could not look away from his face. “Have you ever read anything describing what future awaits the Hero, Princess?”

The horror slowly dawned on me as I realized the answer. “No. I’ve... not. But that doesn’t _mean_ anything, Link, our libraries are so limited-“

“Either I fade into obscurity, and the burdens stop accumulating, or the fight with Ganon is my last.”

“No, Link,” I argued, surging to my feet. “You cannot believe that. Have you asked the sword? What memory does the sword give?”

He seemed to collapse slightly inward, and was silent for so long I started to believe he wouldn’t answer. Eventually, he pushed away from the hearth and looked toward me, his features still lost in the dancing flame and surging shadow. “The Master Sword gave me precise instructions on how to put it back when we had defeated Ganon, so it will be ready for the next Hero.”

I felt the bottom fall out of my stomach as he sketched me a shallow bow. “I believe I will sleep some tonight, Princess. If you hear ought in the night, please call for me.” And then he was gone, the door not quite closing completely behind him.

I stumbled into my own room, collapsing on the side of the bed and fending off the overwhelming desire to cry. I hadn’t cried in years, and I wasn’t about to start now, but even the _desire_ to was something I didn’t often face. I dug my journal out of my pack and stared at it, blankly, for what felt like hours. How could I put the events – the conversations – of the past two days into text? How could I do it without spending the entirety of my night copying down his words?

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t try. I could sketch in the main points, and hope they brought up the fuller memory upon reading my own words in the untenable future.

_  
Bit by bit, I’ve gotten Link to open up to me. It turns out he’s quite a glutton. He can’t resist a delicious meal! When I finally got around to asking why he’s so quiet all the time, I could tell it was difficult for him to say. But he did. With so much at stake, and so many eyes upon him, he feels it necessary to stay strong and to silently bear any burden._

_A feeling I know all too well... For him, it had caused him to stop outwardly expressing his thoughts and feelings. I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was... Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world... I was so absorbed with my own problems, I failed to see his._

_I wish to talk to him more and to see what lies beneath those calm waters, to hear him speak freely and openly. And perhaps I, too, will be able to bare my soul to him and share the demons that have plagued me all these years._


	6. Water Under the Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 8 (A Premonition) and then Memory 10 (Mipha's Touch).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really feel like Memory 9 (Silent Princess) and Memory 10 (Mipha's Touch) are in the wrong order. Link is injured in Memory 8, Mipha is healing the wound in Memory 10 and you can't see the wound in Memory 9. And, from a story standpoint, there's a lot to gain by switching 9 and 10.

We traveled in a comfortable silence the next morning. The omelet Gretta brought me for breakfast was a sad shadow of the one Link had made for me the day before, and my telling him that was the first and last thing spoken between us until nearly midday. We avoided the Moor Garrison – not for any impropriety on our part, but rather for a desire for speed and an abhorrence of ceremony – and instead crossed the Zora river on the east side of Mercay Island. We jumped fences in the fertile farmland by tacit agreement and were well into the foothills of Death Mountain before Link broke the silence.

“Squad of bokos,” he hissed, turning on his heel and reaching for me. I took his hand without a second thought, and let him quickly lead me to an overhang we had just passed. He put his hands on my shoulders and pressed my back against the warm stone. “Stay here, I will come back when the way is clear.”

And then he was gone.

I kept replaying the weight of his hands on my shoulders, the smell of steel and wilderness that wafted up from his collar as he leaned close to whisper his instructions, the brush of his hair against my cheek.

Fool, fool, _fool_ girl.

There was a grunt, and then a series of screams and horn blats, and then a long, uncomfortable silence. I was starting to get concerned when Link reappeared. He had a single spray of blood across his left boot, and beyond that was untouched.

“Got your boot,” I informed, more out of curiosity of his response than out of any actual concern.

He sighed, a bit melodramatically, as he twisted his foot this way and that to stare at the boot in consternation. “I must be losing my edge.”

It was an odd sensation, to be laughing and full of this bubbling sort of contentment as Link led me through a bloody battlefield covered with corpses of a dozen bokoblins. I had my fingers twisted in the laces of the bracer on his right arm again, although for some reason the arrangement today put the backs of my fingers in contact with the skin beneath the armament. Had he rolled his sleeve differently, laced the bracer in a new way?

Was it intentional? Did he want to feel my fingertips against his skin?

Was it _un_ intentional? Was he secretly uncomfortable and unwilling to tell me, to stop and take the time to fix it?

What in the world was wrong with me, that _this_ is what I’m thinking while trying not to step in bokoblin guts?

We traveled for another hour before we came across the next squad of goblin folk, although this one was mixed, moblin and bokoblin. Link stopped so suddenly I ran into his back, and he reached behind with his left hand to cup my elbow and hold me still. I had a death grip on his bracer as he tilted his head and listened; I help my breath as best I could.

Then we were retracing our steps in a hurry, while Link seemed almost frantic to find cover. Eventually he pulled me into a hollow in the ground – it looked like a rock had been plucked out of it and flung down the hillside – and put his mouth directly against my ear so he could barely breathe his instructions in a voice certain to not be overheard.

“At least one of them heard us. Stay here, this will take longer than the last one.”

I nodded, and he spared me a brief smile before leaping nimbly out of the hollow and sneaking off down the trail at a pace I could not maintain with _out_ being stealthy, much less silently as he did.

I settled in with my Sheikah slate to wait, flipping through the compendium and trying to figure out why some plants registered and others did not.

The sunlight moved into a gap between the peaks at my back and began to shine down directly upon me, heating up the hollow I hid in and making me decidedly uncomfortable. I heard no sounds of combat, though, so I treated this as an opportunity to train myself in serenity and maintained stillness.

Suddenly, Link’s head appeared over the edge of the hollow. He grinned at me as I startled at his sudden arrival. “I almost forgot where I left you. I didn’t know you _could_ be that quiet.”

I swatted at him, and he caught my hand and lifted me out of the hollow. He was cleaner than he had been when he left me, with the blood splatter on his one boot mostly scraped dry. I shifted my hand so I held onto his bracer and tried to forget the feel of his calloused palm against my own.

_Fool, fool, fool girl_.

I began snapping images for Robbie an hour or so later, as we got high enough into the mountains for there to be a clear vantage on the training camp and Minshi woods. The point where the best picture could be taken, however, was not readily available.

“Lynel,” Link said, as his eyebrows lifted. “No, _two_ Lynels.”

“We can get a different vantage,” I insisted, “we don’t need to take this hill, we can go elsewhere.” His response was to wink at me. This wink was no where near as amusing to me as the first one had been.

“It’s only two,” he whispered, and then twirled me around so I was once again standing in a shallow cave. I was being hidden by shadows more so than rocks, this time, and I was going to actually be able to see Link fight his way through the mob of creatures that had gathered on this hilltop. He freed his bracer from my hand, slid free his sword, and darted off.

Four of them were down before an alarm went up; I didn’t see the first, and only the slight _thump_ as the second bounced off a rock as it dropped drew my eyes to the site of the battle. The first Lynel was taken completely by surprise, and fell at Link’s feet just as a bokoblin began to furiously sound his horn.

Link seemed to be keeping at least one moblin between himself at the second Lynel at all times. Three moblins met their end thanks to the Lynel taking shots and hitting his allies instead. Unfortunately, that meant when a _third_ Lynel appeared from somewhere off to the west, Link didn't immediately see it until it charged into the fray. He took a glancing blow to his right arm, and it was all I could do to maintain silence as a streak of red exploded from his skin. Once the moblins were down, he leapt onto the back of one of the Lynels, steering it into its fellow by its hair, and then slaying them both in the resulting confusion.

Rather than come down to get me once the coast was clear, Link just looked at the cave I stood in and waved, a bit weakly, for me to come join him. I picked my way through the carnage to find him seated on a short outcrop of rock at the top of the elevation. His right arm was bleeding freely; it looked like his bracer had shifted out of place.

Had I done that? Or had he? Oh, to have the courage to voice the question.

I sat on my knees next to him and focused instead on treating his wound. “That cut doesn’t look too bad, actually. You’re fine, for now.” I reached up and brushed a few loose strands of hair back from his face, tipping his chin up so his eyes met mine. I tried to keep my expression analytical, checking the dilation of his pupils for signs of deeper troubles, but the way he turned his face into my hand gave me butterflies all over again.

_Scholar and soldier_ was far preferable to _Princess and Hero_ , in the way it allowed us to interact. I still wasn’t sure it was wise, though. I let my hand drop and sought for a different train of thought.

“But you know, there’s a fine line between courage and recklessness. As brave as you are, that does not make you immortal.”

He held my gaze as I spoke, the barest twinkle in his eye giving lie to his impassivity. In the end, I looked away first.

Looking away, though, meant looking downslope at the piles of bodies left behind when Link had taken the peak. I had gone through my entire life having never seen a Lynel in the wild, much less _three_. I had never been attacked before, either, and now I’d been up-close-and-personal to four combats in only a matter of days. Thinking back on reports from Impa and casualty assessments from the garrisons, the goblin folk had been a slowly increasing problem over the previous year or more. Link could probably tell me precisely where and when they had first began to grow in numbers, since his own trials had taken him the length and breadth of Hyrule.

“It seems that, not only is the frequency of these types of attacks on the rise,” I said, more than half to myself, “but the scale of beasts we are facing is intensifying as well.”

As I spoke the words, a cold solidified in my abdomen. I put voice to the fear before truly considering it. “I fear... I fear that this is an omen which portends the return of Calamity Ganon.”

I pushed up, rising to my feet, and brushing the dust off my pants. I couldn’t hold on to the coldness for long; the premonition slipped away as quickly as I spoke of it. Perhaps that was the best way to take control of my own fears and anxieties – to speak of them, and let them evaporate.

“And, if that’s the case,” I said, more brightly than I probably should have, “I’m ready to expect the worst. We’ll need to make preparations as soon as possible.”

Link rose to his feet, and I began to lead the way off the mountain.

“First, did you get your image for Robbie?”

I stopped mid-step, turning to the vantage point Link had just given his blood to take, and pulled out my Sheikah slate to do just that. If there was a hint of a laugh in his voice, well... I perhaps deserved it.

“Second, what other preparations do you need beside an army of Guardians and the entirety of the army on high alert? What is the worst that you expect?”

The images captured, I slid the slate back onto my belt and then tipped my head back towards the road. He fell into step behind me, as I picked my way through the remnants of the pitched battle and began to work my way towards the east.

“Better armor for you, for one,” I chided without glancing back at him. “While I’m willing to concede that your arm was sliced open by nothing more than a lucky hit, there needs to be more between your flesh and the blades of your enemies.”

I caught him raise a hand and roughly rub the back of his neck out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t want him to see me look, didn’t want him to see the smile I knew was plastered across my face, but I couldn’t help it. I glanced back and saw the slight flush on his cheeks – he almost looked _sheepish_. He caught my eye and dropped his arm, shrugging with a faint smile.

_Oh_. It was on purpose, then. I snapped back around to face front, hoping I’d managed to turn before the flush overtook my own features. _Fool, fool, fool girl._

“And the worst that I expect... well.” I had wanted to bare my soul, hadn’t I? Escape my anxieties by speaking them? “The absolute worst is that I fail to unlock my power and I am slain when you and I engage with Ganon.”

“That will not happen,” he said behind me, in a gravelly sort of tone that made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

There was no room in his statement for argument; not that I really wanted to argue. The cold conviction in his voice was precisely what I needed to hear. He was the chosen of the sword that seals the darkness. He was my partner in the coming catastrophe. I had just seen him single-handedly slay _three_  Lynels amidst a herd of goblin folk, and if he believed in me...? The least I could do is return the favor.

“My life is yours, Princess,” he reminded me. “It is to be expended first.”

“I don’t think that-“

“Urbosa will kill me if you're hurt, so really it’s the only option.”

He took me by surprise – again! – and then side-stepped around me as I was distracted and laughing. “And why are you leading us east? Those images need to go to Robbie, at the Castle.”

“You are injured, sir knight,” I countered. “I am taking you to the best healer available.”

His face actually fell. “That is neither needed nor wanted, Princess.”

“Unfortunate for you, then, that it was not opened to debate.”

He planted his feet and blocked my path, his jaw jutting slightly forward and his brows drawn together in a fierce frown. Where once I would have rejoiced to see him bracing to argue with me, the occasional trickle of blood down his arm put me in no mood to broker any disagreement.

I continued stepping forward, until I was almost nose to nose with him.

“We are near enough to Zora’s Domain to justify the stop. She will be furious with us both if the wound mortifies and we have to seek her out later. And, if you are really loathe to visit your oldest friend, we have the images to deliver to Robbie as our excuse to cut short our stay.”

I reached up with one hand and deliberately poked him in the middle of his chest. “Now, sir knight. Lead or be led, but do not seek to bar my path.”

He stumbled a step back in surprise when my finger jabbed into his sternum, and then turned the motion into a rather smooth step to the side. He sketched a half-bow and gestured for me to lead on. I was perhaps a bit too pleased at the way the scenario had played out; I wasn’t sure if it was because of my minor victory or the way his breath caught in his throat when I stood toe-to-toe with him.

_Fool, fool, fool girl_.

We descended from the mountains and made for the road; with Link injured, even if he insisted it was minor, I would rather keep to the safety of the road rather than the quieter freedom of the wilds. We made good time, relatively speaking, but the number of people on the road encouraged us both to keep our silence. I was stopped several times – guardsman checking in, common folk asking for a blessing, and near-continuous praise as I was recognized. It was a good problem to have, I kept telling myself. The royalty is not always loved by the common man, and that my name carried praise was in fact a compliment to my father’s rule.

It meant, however, that we only made it as far as Thims Bridge before needing to stop for the night. An increase in skeletal monsters was being reported near the mountains after dark, and I was unwilling to risk Link’s arm in a fight.

“I could handle a mob of Stalfos in my sleep, one handed, blindfolded, with nothing but a _stick_ ,” he hissed when I explained I was going to take a room at the inn before the bridge for the night. “I am not made of glass, Princess, and it is naught but a scratch.”

I lifted my eyebrows but otherwise made no reply. After a few long moments of him searching my face, he sighed and stepped back. “I suddenly understand your frustration with me when first we met.”

I choked back a surprised laugh, but the damage was done. He took me by the hand and tried to lead me away from the inn, but I set my heels and pulled back against him. He was stronger than me – _oh_ he was so much stronger than me – but he also respected me as his sovereign and stopped pulling when I resisted.

“We’re taking a room and you’re going to deal with it,” I said, and made my way into the inn.

The inn at Thims Bridge was a popular stopover site for travelers between Akkala and Hyrule Castle, as it was just past half the distance between the Citadel and the Castle Town. With the added threat of monsters rising at night, the inn was nearly full. There was one room remaining; luckily for us, it was the one held on reserve for nobility and never rented out to commoners. I laid my rupees on the counter as Link took the key, and we were safely ensconced in the room in short order.

“No bananas?” I asked as Link let me into the room and locked the door behind me.

“No bananas,” he agreed.

“You need to sleep,” I commanded him. “You’re wounded.”

“I slept _last_ night,” he countered. “I don’t need to-“

“Normal people sleep every night!”

“Since when am I normal?" he countered, seeming to aim for humor rather than argue with me outright. "Normal people don’t get chosen by the sword that seals the darkness!”

‘Don’t you try that on me, sir knight. You may be skilled and courageous and perfectly proportioned-“ _now where in the world did that come from?_ “-but you are still mortal and you are still wounded and you still need sleep!”

“If I sleep, will you abandon this fool notion of my arm needing Mipha’s Grace?”

There was something about the way he said it that made me take a step back. “You really don’t want to see Mipha? But I thought-“

He made a thoroughly disgusted sound and then moved to stir up the hearth and wander around the room. He locked the windows and re-checked the corners, ducked down to check under the beds – of which there were four, thank goodness – and moving the privacy screens to minimize the shadows in the room. I crossed my arms, leaned against the wall, and waited.

“She’s my friend, and I do love her,” he said, softly, as he stepped back across the room and sat down on the very edge of a couch. “She is graceful and kind and soft-spoken and an absolute monster with that spear. We have learned from each other and fought for each other and she was the first person to believe in me – _really_ believe in me. She made it plainly clear there was no acceptable reason for anyone in the world to doubt me, at all, ever. It was nice to have as a counterpoint to... well, Revali.”

_And me_ , I thought with a pang of regret.

“And Zora’s Domain is beautiful. It truly is. I was given a second home there, a place to recover from... what happened to Saria, the way my future splintered away from what I had always expected it would be. I have nothing against the Zoras or their... augh, this is impossible. Simply put, I don’t love her _like that_. She fully expects us to get married when everything is said and done and I have no desire to be king of the fish people.”

He had started out so diplomatically, that his rather artless conclusion surprised another laugh out of me. I contained it to a suspiciously amused cough that earned me a very sharp side-eye as I carefully sat on the opposite end of the couch at an angle to face him.

“Why don’t you tell her?”

“After all this time? No. She’s been dead set on this for over a decade, and flatly refused to listen to any of my protests. With Ganon looming... there’s no reason to do it now, even if I thought she would listen.”

“She doesn’t listen when you tell her you’re not interested?”

He hung his head. “I told her, once, that I wasn’t interested and she cried for three days. I apologized, for hurting her, and she thought I’d apologized for what I said – that I didn’t mean it. She was my only friend, I was young and easily confused, and I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve tried reasoning with her... I even told her once that our species weren’t compatible, and as the heir to the throne she needed children I couldn’t give her. She... she just shrugged and said that Hylians don’t live long, and she could produce heirs with whatever arranged marriage her father makes for her once I’m dead. And that we shouldn’t talk about it because it distressed her just thinking about my inevitable death.”

“This... doesn’t fit with my image of Mipha _at all_ ,” I managed, shocked.

Link shrugged. “We were so young when we met... she’s mellowed a lot. She’s really only ever been this bossy to me. Even her brother, Sidon, doesn’t stand for it. He’s barely more than an infant by Zora terms, and he flatly refuses to let her tell him what to do. It’s not like she’s overbearing about it... she has that same soft voice and just keeps talking, sounding completely reasonable the entire time she’s talking over my every complaint.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

He dropped his head into his hands with what might have been a laugh, but it was such a soft sound I couldn’t be sure. “No. Oh, no. That would be a _disaster_.”

“Mipha is so soft-spoken! She wouldn’t-“

“Have you seen her with that spear?”

“No.”

“Trust me. She is not the Zora Champion because she’s the king’s daughter. She’s the Champion because she is seriously ferocious with that spear. She learned to heal because she was constantly injuring the people she trained with, and she _is_ ultimately a very empathetic person. I just seem to be the exception to that empathy. Maybe she doesn’t understand Hylians, I don’t know.”

“Which takes me back to my initial point, in that she’ll be furious if something happens with that wound and we didn’t bring you to her sooner. I heard her scold Daruk at the Castle.”

He canted a sideways look at me. “Did you see him lob me in the air, as well?”

“I saw a greenish blur that I assumed was you, yes.”

He turned his eyes back towards the floor and shook his head before scrubbing a hand roughly across his face. It was such a weary gesture – like he was so much older than his years – that my heart hurt for him. He was truly trying to balance his own needs against the demands of the world, and coming up short every time.

He sighed and leaned backwards into the couch, angling slightly so he faced me. Our knees were a hands’ breadth apart, and I allowed myself to be briefly distracted by the proximity. “My life is yours, Princess. If you want me to hand it over to Mipha, so be it.”

“That’s not what I said at all!” I protested, before catching the gleam in his eye that showed he was teasing me. “You’re terrible.”

“So I don’t have to go?”

“You don’t have to go to sleep, but we’re definitely going to the Zoras. I will stay with you the entire time if you feel like you need protection. I am happy to defend your virtue.”

He actually rolled his eyes at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You say I’m terrible.”

“You are! But that isn’t to say that a terrible man wasn’t exactly what I needed in my life.” _Shut up, shut up, shut up, oh Goddess protect me from my stupid flapping foolish mouth_.

“I will aspire to new heights of awfulness, then,” he announced, and I was glad for the poor light to hide my blush. “And regardless of whether or not I am permitted to stay awake, you, Princess, definitely need sleep.”

“Yes, because I had a long hard day of hiding while you killed goblin folk.”

“Precisely.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes, but he was right. We’d hiked all over the mountains that day, and I would want to be on my toes for any further confrontation on the morrow.

“Very well, sir knight. I trust in you to guard my slumber.”

“With my life, Princess,” he answered.

I needed to come up with a response appropriate to the gravity of those words. “Thank you,” just didn’t seem to be sufficient. I settled for a half-bow to match the one he often offered me, and turned to the bed he’d screened off without stopping to see what, if any, response the gesture gleaned.

I was very self-conscious as I prepared for bed, hyper aware of him sitting in the same room, on the other side of a flimsy privacy screen. I wanted... I didn’t know what. It didn’t seem to matter what this nebulous feeling was; we were ill-prepared for the Calamity to come, and whatever feelings I struggled with were ultimately unimportant in the face of the resurgence of Ganon.

My last thought before sleep was an echo of Link’s sentiment regarding Mipha: there would be time to deal with it – whatever it was – when Ganon no longer loomed over us.

*

We ducked out of the inn two full hours before dawn, and made it across the Inogo Bridge before many other travelers were on the road, saving us a great deal of time. Link knew a shortcut through the Tabahl Woods, which saved us another hour at least, and then we followed the southern side of Ruto mountain to reach the East Reservoir Lake where Divine Beast Vah Ruta resided.

Mipha saw us coming, of course, and dove gracefully off the face of the strange beast. I had read that it resembled something in far off lands called an _elephant_ but the word meant nothing to me. She emerged from the water just as we reached the shore, and darted over happily to wrap us both in damp hugs.

“You’re _hurt_ ,” she gasped, when Link flinched slightly away from her hands. “Oh, I wondered why you came straight here and skipped father’s Domain. Here, let me bring Vah Ruta over and give us a place to sit and talk.”

She dove back into the water before either of us could get a word in edgewise, and within moments the Divine Beast was moving through the water towards us.

“Zelda, come, climb up here, and we’ll have Vah Ruta lift up Link. He should not be climbing with that arm.”

The look he shot me as soon as her gaze was directed at me was so full of censure – _this is all your fault_ – that I had a hard time maintaining my composure. He looked so _put upon_ and it was so out of character for him, it was all I could do not to laugh. “You know, he had to climb in several places to get here, I am sure-“

“I will take you to the main controls and you can have Ruta lift up Link with his trunk,” she said, and I suddenly understood what Link had been saying before. She did not interrupt or speak harshly; her tones were so soft and placid that I felt rude by continuing once she started to speak. The saucy little minx! I had no idea. “I will help him up. We can get him on Ruta from there.”

I tried twice more to explain to her that he was climbing just fine, but she kept up a soft monologue of how he was always getting injured and how she was always willing to heal him, really it was no trouble at all, she was happy to do it. She walked me to the control unit for Ruta and then strode off without another thought for me.

I was absolutely _sure_ Urbosa had just the perfect word to use in this situation. I really needed to ask her to teach me to swear.

I watched Mipha gracefully slide down Vah Ruta’s trunk to where Link sat, disheveled and annoyed if outwardly impassive, on the bank of the reservoir. I waited until Mipha had positioned him on the lip of the Divine Beast, and then operated the controls to lift them both out of the water and high into the air.

I couldn’t see them well from where I stood, but I climbed up a few rooms until I could look out at them from the shadowed interior of the Divine Beast. I saw Mipha’s hand glow blue as she held it over Link’s arm, and I marveled – not for the first time – at this strange and wondrous magic she wielded. When my own power finally emerged, would I be able to heal? When Link’s arm was whole, he carefully folded his hands in his lap and he continued to listen to whatever it was Mipha was saying. I watched as she turned to him, asked him a question, and he froze.

I didn’t have to wonder what the question might have been. I hurried back down to the main control unit and moved the trunk the rest of the way up, so the two of them would be deposited on the roof of the Divine Beast. I heard a squeak of protest from Mipha and returned quickly to the top level.

“And there you are! Wonderful. Thank you _so much_ for healing him once again, Mipha. Did he tell you he received that wound killing not one but _three_  Lynels?”

“He... he did not,” Mipha admitted, wearing a shocked sort of look on her face. “Although I would not doubt it for a minute. He is as strong as he is courageous.”

“We should stay with the Zoras tonight, Princess,” Link counseled softly, to my surprise. “We can take the information to Robbie in the morning.”

“Whatever you think is best, sir knight,” I answered.

Link gestured for Mipha to lead the way, and in short order we were making our way down the suspended walkways to where King Dorephan held court.

There was a dinner, of course, and a great deal of greeting and introductions and vague promises for future conversations and the like. Very little was accomplished, though much was said. I was shown to the rooms set aside for the usage of the Hyrulian royal family as the dusk deepened to full dark, and found myself suddenly alone.

I hadn’t been _alone_  outside of my own bedroom in so long I’d quite forgotten what it was like. And to think, I used to resent Link for interrupting my solitude! I had come to rely on someone to talk to; to have him be out somewhere – perhaps miserable in a conversation with Mipha that I had forced upon him-

“Why the long face, Princess?”

I jumped nearly out of my skin, and then whirled to see him on the balcony, leaning against the rail, regarding me through the open door.

“You startled me half to death!” I accused, and a brief smile crossed his features. “Get in here, you terrible man.”

“There is a royal guard’s suite just below you,” he advised without moving. “I did not find it to my tastes, so I wished a mandate to spend the evening on your balcony, instead.”

“Oh, please do,” I immediately agreed, and then passed through the doors to stand beside him. The view was truly lovely, had to admit; the Zora artisans used luminous stone in all their structures and it made the city glow at night.

We stood in silence for a long time. I watched the soft motion of the water, far below, as it cast back rippled reflections of luminous architecture. When I glanced up, I realized Link was watching me.

“She asked me if we could spend some time together, when this was all over,” he confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I immediately felt badly, for forcing him into a position wherein that could happen. At the same time, a bubble of joy seemed to expand beneath my heart, to have him _volunteer_ this information. I had set my sights on his opening up to me, and I so rarely succeeded at anything! It was a wonderful feeling.

“What did you say? Or did my horribly fumble-fingered controlling of Vah Ruta ruin the moment?”

He smiled – a real, face splitting, genuine _smile_ – and the bubble grew a bit bigger. “And you say I’m terrible.”

“You must be rubbing off on me. For shame.”

His jaw moved – something he wanted to say but didn’t, pity – and he seemed to swallow a few times before nodding and turning to look down over the water, his eyes following the direction my own had traveled.

“I told her that since I had claimed the sword, I had changed. I had the sword’s memories now, haunting me as I slept, and that I had a better understanding of what my life was meant to be. I told her I could not promise her anything for the future, because in claiming the sword I had given away control of my fate.”

“Is... is that true?”

He shot me a haunted sort of look and did the shrug-and-nod that I took to be reluctant agreement. “My life is yours, Princess.”

_Oh_. He could not possibly mean that the way my punch-drunk, foolish little girl’s heart immediately took it. He was my sworn protector, my appointed knight, and he was my partner in the battle against Calamity Ganon to come. All of that was far more important than a childhood crush. _That_ was what he meant. Nothing more. 

“And she did not take it well.”

“She took it better than she had taken any other complaint I had ever lodged,” he countered. “I begged her to please allow me to remain her friend, for us to stay close as we always had been, and then the Divine Beast started to move and we were deposited rather unceremoniously on the decking.”

“Zelda fails again,” I said, and for the first time, the _very first time_ , there was no bitterness in it. Had I just successfully poked fun at myself? I think I might have!

“If that is your definition of failure, then we are in for smooth sailing indeed,” he countered, and then pushed off from the railing. “You know, I’ve never been in these rooms.”

“Please, seek out bananas to your heart’s content,” I encouraged.

I thought I heard him laugh as he passed through the doorway and out of sight, but since I had such limited experience with the sound, I could not be sure.

Easily an hour passed, as Link turned over every inch of the royal apartment while I sat by the fire and watched, bemused. Finally he sidled back towards me with what almost looked like disappointment on his face.

“No evidence of bananas,” he pronounced. “I will remove myself to the balcony. Sleep well, Princess.”

_Don’t._ The word hovered directly behind my teeth, being pushed outwards by an impatient _Stay_ , followed by _I prefer your company to my own_. But I did not speak. I was the Princess of Hyrule. I was strong in the face of adversity. I was unbowed beneath the threat of evil. And I would beg no man to stay.

And that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Perhaps it took acknowledging Mipha’s crush before I could admit my own.  Perhaps I was under the same spell Mipha, most of the Gerudo clan, and easily half the women working in Hyrule Castle had fallen under. I sat beside the fire and I watched him walk out of the room, leaving the balcony door open behind him. He pulled his tunic off over his head, folding it neatly to lay atop a pile of his gear, and then sat cross-legged on the floor overlooking the waterfalls and glowing stone of Zora’s Domain. He laid the Master Sword across his knees, and settled in to guard my sleep. It was an honor dozens of women would happily die for, and it was mine alone.

Me, his untouchable sovereign. The girl whose failure could cost him everything.

_Fool, fool, fool girl_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I watching these vids over and over again to make sure I got the details right, I realized there just a half second in Memory 8 when Link & Zelda first come on screen, where Zelda has her hand on Link's face. I paused (thank you, YouTube), pointed, and started screaming.  
> The devs aren't actually going to give us this ship, but they'll send us a box with all the necessary lumber, plans, and even a custom sail. Bastards.


	7. Chasing Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 9 (Silent Princess)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The memory stops with her holding the frog in his face. If that isn't begging for some tropes I don't know what is.

 We did not see Mipha again before leaving, and managed to slip out of Zora’s Domain with little fanfare. It seemed to be our routine – meet and greet upon arrival, slip away without notice. As long as I got to do _anything_ without notice, I was content.

We made good enough time that we did not need to stop that day, making it back to the Castle gates just as the sun slipped below the horizon.

“Your Father, His Majesty the King, wishes to see you the moment you return, Princess Zelda,” the gate guard intoned.

“Yes, of course. My thanks to you.”

“Link,” he said to my shadow.

“Mikael,” Link returned the greeting.

Because of course he would know the soldiers. Why did I keep allowing myself to be surprised by such obvious details?

“I trust in your ability to find your way to your father,” Link said at my elbow.

“Y-Yes. Thank you.”

“Good night, Princess.”

I felt somehow naked with him gone. How different the feeling was, from the last time I had been in the Castle! My whole world seemed to have changed since last my feet were on these stones.

My father, however, had no way of knowing that.

“Days! Over a week, with no word! How do you expect to explain this?”

“Forgive me, Father, we were delayed. I passed out in the waters of the Spring of Courage,” I answered, seeking the grace Mipha had shown when diffusing my father’s anger in the past. “Link received injury protecting me from a Lynel and I insisted he be seen by Lady Mipha, rather than risk the safety of either of us.”

It worked! My father slowly exhaled a breath, seeming to collapse in on himself. “You were at the Spring of Courage?”

“I hoped that, given the historical ties of the Hero to the Triforce of Courage, his accompanying me to the Spring might assist in the awakening of my own powers.”

“And you spoke of this to him?”

“Of course not, Father. We speak of the Triforce to no one, not even the Champions.”

He sighed and sunk a little deeper into the throne.

“I have traveled home from Zora’s Domain this day, Father. Might I retire?”

“What? Oh. Yes. By all means. I will speak with Link on the morrow. I received word you drew near and stayed awake to greet you. I... I am glad you are home safe, my daughter.”

“Thank you, Father. I am glad to see you, as well.”

He smiled, and I bowed and made my escape.

It worked! It actually worked! I made my way to my rooms as quickly as I could, dropping to my knees on the walkway just as the moon broached the horizon. I was overjoyed to the point of praying aloud, whispering, "Thank you! Thank you, it worked! He didn’t scold me for the first time in _ages_ , thank you, thank you!"

Any attempt I could make at serenity was lost in a sea of relief. I could not help but find a portent here, a hope that perhaps I was doing things right. For the first time, I felt _good_ about the way my life was turning.

No small part of that was due to Link’s statement of belief in me.

But I had to say that to the Goddess, use it to power my prayer! I focused on the moon, urging my gratitude into the air, and including – for the first time in years – a well wish for my mother. “I am sure you did your best,” I said, and felt a little stir of something in my heart. I spent the rest of the time in silence, and finished my devotions feeling energized, for the very first time. 

As I stood, Link swung over the lip of the walkway and I took two eager steps towards him before remembering we were no longer out on the road, no longer free to do as we chose, no longer just the warrior and the scholar. We must once more be the Princess and the Hero.

I loathed it. But still, I straightened my shoulders and kept a dignified distance between us.

I quickly told Link what I’d told my father, but when I said my father intended to speak to him in the morning-

“You’re not asking me to withhold information from the King?”

 _Oh no_.

“It’s not... _withholding_... information so much as... as...”

He was laughing at me. I couldn’t hear it and it barely showed on his face, but his shoulders were curled slightly inward, his eyes crinkled at the edges, his breath just a bit shorter and harsher than normal.

“You are a terrible man,” I hissed, and his shoulders quirked inward a bit deeper.

I sighed – desperately trying to hide my fondness – and pushed past him into the Castle, in the direction of my room. “Not that I believe you will sleep, but where _would_ you rest, were you to actually close your eyes while we are in the Castle?”

“Guards’ Chambers,” he shrugged. “Officially.”

“And unofficially?”

He shrugged again. “Wherever I am feeling comfortable and drowsy.”

It was so honest – and such a _Link_ thing to say – that I submitted to the urge to step closer, close enough to lay my hand on his forearm, right where the Lynel had opened him up only a few days prior. He eyes seemed locked on my hand.

“You have become... or, rather, we have become... something akin to friends, I would like to think. I cannot make up for the way I have acted in the past, but I would like you to... not make yourself as scarce, as I expected of you before.”

His eyes slowly drifted up to meet mine, and I had to fight back a nearly violent blush at the lazy route they took from my hand to my eyes.

“Of course, Princess,” he agreed softly. “My life is yours.”

“I need a reply for that. _Thank you_ just does not seem appropriate.”

His shoulders curled inward again, ever so slightly, and one corner of his mouth quirked upward in a smile. “Let me know what you come up with. I would hate to not keep to the accepted forms.”

That sounds like something I... when did I... Oh, _damn_ the man, that was the first thing I ever said to him. His smile broadened as he watched me work it through and then with a mocking sort of bow, he dropped off my walkway and disappeared into the night.

“You terrible man,” I said to the stones at my feet. I was laughing to myself as I made my way inside. My ears pricked at what I could have sworn was his voice, on the level below, in a barely-audible whisper: “You love it.”

It was such a mocking, teasing, _playful_ thing to say, I immediately doubted I had heard it right. It was more likely my ears playing tricks on me, wishful thinking in the dark.

 _Fool girl_.

*

“He is upset with you for not mentioning the Yiga attack at the oasis,” Link said without preamble when I stood after my morning devotions to find him watching me from the chair in my study. This was the sort of instance cursing was invented for.

“Well... hrm. Actually. I keep meaning to ask Urbosa, but you could probably tell me.”

“Tell you...?”

“I know no curse words,” I informed him, with as much poise as I could muster. Why I would feel embarrassment over such an admission was beyond me. I was a Princess, not a... a... see, _this_ is why I needed swear words. "Since we're together so frequently, you could-"

“No.”

“Would you rather I learn whatever it was Urbosa said that had you questioning her flexibility?”

He actually blushed! He turned beet red and looked immediately away. I was instantly determined to figure out _precisely_ what it was Urbosa had said.

“Shit,” he said, succinctly.

“Shit,” I sounded out carefully. “Yes, good. I have heard it before, I believe. What would be its correct usage?”

He covered his face with one hand. “Can we... do this elsewhere? Please? I keep imagining King Rhoam walking up behind you and my career abruptly ending.”

“Given you’ve just saved me from the Yiga, the chances of that are approximately zero, oh He Who Wields the Sword That Seals the Darkness.”

“You’re terrible today.”

It brought to mind the trick my ear played on me the night before. I was sorely tempted to use the retort I was still only half sure I hadn’t heard, but courage was his strong suit, not mine.

“We have images to take to Robbie, if you would like to accompany me on a ride, sir knight.”

“My life is yours, Princess.”

I was changed in record time, but if I thought to make my way to the main gates I was sorely mistaken.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we wound through the lower levels of the Castle in the precise wrong direction.

“Docks,” Link answered, with his right hand tucked behind him and my fingers once again tangled in the laces of his bracer. “I am avoiding the Castle Town until further notice.”

“Oh? Have the Gerudo come to claim you? Is there a siege upon our gates?”

I was behind him, so my only view of the deep, burning blush that overtook his features was the tips of his ears going flashfire red. It was delightful, honestly.

“Oh, how I wish.”

“Link!” I protested, aghast but still laughing.

“It is my father,” he confessed, and we slowed to a stop by silent accord. He turned to address me directly, as opposed to speaking over his shoulder. “He is... inordinately proud of me, of course. But he shows it by... by attempting to humiliate me in public. Don’t ask me to explain it, it isn’t reasonable. It’s just... him. His way of pushing me to succeed was to push me away, and it worked so well, by his estimation, that he’s turned it into an art form.”

“Surely he wouldn’t-“

“I am not willing to risk it. I... I am happy with this lot in life, Princess. I would like to keep it.”

He would like for me to not hear him be taken down a peg or three by his father. I somehow did not believe it was solely because I was his sovereign and his charge, but rather because I was his friend, and he wanted me to think highly of him. Or, perhaps, he dreaded being embarrassed in front of me?

There were implications to this I desperately wanted to investigate, but the simple fact of the matter was, he was asking me to let him slip free of just one burden. It was small, and ultimately insignificant – he had absolutely heard my father dressing me down, and turnabout is fair play, after all – but he wanted to avoid this minor hardship.

“Should I have him reassigned? Perhaps to Hebra?”

It earned me a real smile, and I must admit I was dazzled. His eyes sparkled, his whole face brightened, his teeth gleamed in the torchlight of the cavern we had stopped in. “And you say I’m terrible.”

“If your life is mine,” I countered as he turned and tugged me into motion once more, “then all decisions about what indignities you are exposed to are mine and mine alone to make.”

“That is... not as reassuring as you might think.”

“It was not intended to be.”

“Terrible.”

“You love it,” I muttered, and felt my heart stop as I waited for his response.

It was only slight – a tip of his face to the side, to glance back at me over his shoulder. But there was a sly sort of crinkle at the corner of his eyes that sent the breath rushing back into my lungs, lighter and warmer than I could remember ever feeling. I had heard him right. _I had heard him right_.

We were rowed across the moat by a confused dockworker, and met by a boy on the far side with our mounts – my Royal and Link's lovely Epona – who took the rupee Link tossed him with a pledge that “this never happened, I ain’t never seen you.”

I heard Link spur Epona on, and Royal needed no urging to keep up. It was all I could do to keep from laughing aloud. Even one night in the Castle had me longing for the wild once more. Even though we were within sight of the Castle at all times – we merely took the long way around to the tech lab where Robbie was likely hard at work – and it was some of the safest land in the country, still it was open fields and bright sunlight, flowers dancing in the breeze and birds singing.

“Here, Link!” I called, and he immediately reined in. I swung off Royal beneath a lone oak tree and tied him off loosely to browse on the rich grasses. Link was off his horse in an instant. “What did you see?”

“I was hoping to ask Robbie why some species register in the compendium, while others do not,” I answered. “And, honestly, I am in no great hurry to return to the Castle, and this is as good a place for truancy as any.”

“I never pegged you for a truant,” he told me as he dropped to his knees and was immediately surrounded by flowers.

“Liar,” I countered. His eyes widened and then he smiled at me. Another real smile – two in one day! I was truly blessed.

I pulled out the slate and started pointing it at everything. Most of the flowers caused no reaction in the slate, but some things – like the various saffina and the blue nightshade – were recognized and had little yellow boxes around them on the screen. There were insects in the grass, I was sure of it, and I spent a bit trying to find the source of the chirping nearby. The words _restless cricket_ popped up onto the screen and I gasped. “There’s one!” There was a hightail lizard in the grass, apparently, and I heard myself say, “Ooh, and another!”

Had Link been anyone else, he would have chuckled. Instead, I saw his shoulders do that slight inward curl while he remained otherwise unresponsive.

“The flowers we have in Hyrule aren’t just beautiful,” I said, as much for his benefit as for my own. “They’re also quite useful as ingredients for a variety of things.”

He was on his knees beside me, watching me and the Sheikah Slate over my shoulder; I could see his reflection in the glass of the screen, thanks to the bright sunshine we basked in. I was momentarily distracted by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when another yellow box popped up on the screen, around a flower hidden in the midst of an expanse of bluebells and suncaps.

I put the slate aside and reached over to the delicate white-and-blue petals. “This one here is called the silent princess,” I told him. “It’s a rare, endangered species.”

He crawled across the grass to where I knelt by the silent princess, and listened intently to me; the change in my tone must have keyed him in to the little flower’s importance in my esteem.

“Despite our efforts, we can’t get them to grow domestically yet. The princess can only thrive out here in the wild.”

I hoped he heard the plea in my words. I hoped he heard the two meanings standing side-by-side in the description I gave. I couldn’t make it plainer than that; not on this beautiful day, in our stolen moments of freedom, on a hillside in a wildflower meadow. The day was too perfect to ruin with ruminations of how I, too, could not thrive inside the walls of men.

“All that we can hope, is that the species will be strong enough to prosper on its own.”

I had abandoned my own attempts to grow the flower in my study. It had never seemed right, although I hadn’t truly acknowledged the reasoning until now.

Link shifted, and I turned slightly to hear what he seemed poised to say. Movement caught my eye and distracted me utterly. “Oh! Is that what I think it is?!? Look at this!” I darted forward, both hands grasping... and I got it! “I don’t believe it but I actually caught one!” I tottered back towards him, awkwardly on my knees, my prize clasped between my hands. “This delicacy is known to have very, _very_ potent effects under the proper circumstances. Ta-daaa!”

Link’s face was openly amused as he watched my antics, and it only goaded me on. I opened my hands, thrusting my prize in his face. It ribbited, on cue, as I exposed the hot-footed frog.

“Research from the Castle shows ingesting one of these can actually augment certain abilities. We wouldn’t be in a controlled environment out here, but with your level of physical fitness-“ _oh, now, why did I have to add that on?_ “-you’d be a perfect candidate for the study!”

He was openly smiling again. He was almost to the point of laughing at me, and it was _glorious_. “Here! Go on! _Taste it!_ ” With every pause I thrust the confused little amphibian into his face, and with every thrust Link made this _adorable_ little sound of disgusted protest.

On the last thrust, the frog decided it had had enough, and attempted escape by leaping directly at Link’s face. I reached out to catch it, while he recoiled instinctively away. While I was infinitely grateful he hadn’t reacted by skewering the poor thing or by batting it out of the air, the end result was still that we were both off-balance and toppled over on the hill.

Link landed flat on his back, the frog made a perfect four-footed landing on Link’s forehead, and I awkwardly managed to get both hands out in front of me and _on the ground_ rather than planted directly into Link’s ribs. But, still, my face was inches from his, with only a confused and perhaps belligerent frog between us.

“I know what a hot-footed frog is, Zelda,” Link said, sourly. His tone was completely betrayed by the broad smile on his face. “And you have to cook it into an elixir for it to do you any good.”

“You! It’s always cooking with you! You’re saying you’ll eat it if I cook into a meal but not as part of my study?”

“No!” he laughed. “I’m saying you aren’t going to make me eat a frog! I don't need it, I’m fast enough as it is.”

The frog seemed to concur, and ribbited once more as it jumped off Link’s face and disappeared into the grass. I was perhaps too giddy by this point, and poked Link in the ribs with my right hand. He twisted away with a protesting sort of laugh, which, again, merely goaded me on.

“You let it get away! My prize! Escaped! Some hero _you_ are!”

He flinched away from my repeated pokes, knocking my left arm out from under me, and I collapsed onto his chest.

There was one long moment where neither of us moved. I was too shocked to try to regain my balance, and he was perfectly still; two bodies frozen in space.

Slowly, he put his right hand on my right shoulder and slid me onto the grass beside him, settling my head on his right shoulder. He left his hand on my shoulder for a long moment, and when I didn’t move – still frozen in shock - he slowly lifted his hand away.

I reached up with my left hand and stopped his retreat, pressing his hand back to my shoulder. He blew out a long breath and seemed to sink a bit into the grass.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, immediately. I wasn’t sure precisely what this was, but _okay_ definitely was involved in the description.

“Are you sure? I could-“

“Don’t you dare.”

I heard the laugh, this time – the air rumbled in his chest and I could feel the vibration in his throat. It was immediately in contention with the sun for what was bringing me the most warmth. His right arm pressed a bit closer to my back, and I found myself pressing my face into his shoulder. The horses would give us more than enough notice if anyone drew near, and the great oak stood between us and line-of-sight to the castle. I felt completely safe here, sheltered and protected and-

-and that was enough, for now.

I stayed there for Goddess-knows-how-long, breathing in the wild scent of him and watching the horses’ ears flick as they browsed on the lush greens. The realization slowly dawned on me that Link’s hand had gone limp against my shoulder, his breathing slow and deep.

He was asleep.

Flat on his back, my head on his shoulder, his arm draped over me, the sunshine bright on his face, he was _asleep_. What was it he had said, when I had asked him where he slept? _Wherever he feels comfortable and drowsy_ , it was.

He was comfortable.

Here, in this moment, with me. He was _comfortable_.

I carefully lifted the Sheikah slate, turning it on as I moved, and held it one-handed in the air over us. I could see his eyes shifting beneath his gently closed lids; he was dreaming. His face seemed simultaneously much younger and far too old; the cares were gone, but the lines and scars were much easier to see, this close.

And, _oh_ , we were so close. I twisted the Slate a bit so we were both framed in the image and then hit the button to capture it. The sound of the image being created caused Link’s eyes to snap open, and for one second he looked almost feral in his intensity – it took him a moment to recall where he was, and to remember how he came to be asleep in this meadow. Once recognition set in, he immediately relaxed.

“Collecting blackmail, I see?” he asked, his voice heavy with sleep. The drowsy sort of smile he directed at me through the slate’s lens made my stomach clench in a way I was altogether unfamiliar with and incredibly intrigued by.

“I wasn’t sure you were really asleep, and didn’t want to move and risk waking you, if you were.”

“You shouldn’t let me sleep at all,” he countered, but his heart wasn’t into it. A moment later, his eyes closed and he slipped off again.

It was unspeakably endearing. I shifted so I was on my back beside him, still using his shoulder as a pillow, and tugged his hand over to my other shoulder, so that his forearm lay across my collarbones. He made a contented sort of sound in his sleep and then was silent once more.

With both hands now free, I wasted my afternoon using the Sheikah slate to look at everything around me. _Horse_ was in the compendium, as was _Master Sword_ and _Royal Guard’s Bow_. I managed to get a picture of a hot-footed frog, which amused me to no end, and a number of really lovely shots of the meadow we laid in.

The sun went behind a cloud and the temperature dipped. I shivered, and Link snapped awake.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course. I just got accustomed to the sunshine, and felt a chill when it went back behind the cloud.”

He sat up, drawing me upright with him, and spent a few minutes pulling grass and flowers out of my hair. “You’re full of ambiguity today, aren’t you?”

“What? Not particularly.”

“That’s twice you’ve said something profound with two completely different meanings.”

It caught me off guard. “I will admit to the silent princess. But I am lost as to the second instance you cite.”

His hand caught my chin and he tipped my face up to meet his eye, and my breath caught. We stayed like that until the sun came out from behind the cloud, and he released me without having said anything. I shivered again.

“Right,” he said, in a teasing sort of tone.

Oh. _Oh_ , was I the sunshine to- No. No, surely not. He wouldn't say that he was the sun to- But then again, I’d just spent the afternoon using him as a pillow as he napped, and _Zelda stop thinking you’ll ruin it_.

“We never did make it to Robbie’s.”

“You’re not really going to show him pictures of the slate, are you? How do you propose to explain the one of me sleeping?”

“Oh, I should... probably get rid of that one,” I admitted, begrudgingly. I felt _wrong_ as I deleted it, like it was critically important, somehow, and needed to be preserved. I hesitated so long I started to get self-conscious, and then deleted it with a sigh.

His hand was on the small of my back, then, and he guided me to Royal and helped me into the saddle – none of which was necessary, but all of which was appreciated. I expected him to swing into his own saddle, but instead he took Royal’s reins and led both horses down the hillside, taking us the short distance to where the tech lab crouched on the hillside west of the castle.

I couldn’t manage to shake the sense of loss and regret that came from deleting the picture of Link and I, although it had been completely reasonable to do so. Somehow, _that image_ was the important one, the one worth saving, the one that meant something more than another would.

Or perhaps I felt guilty that I apparently had something to hide.

I didn’t want to chase either thought down their rabbit holes, so I put them off and instead met with Robbie.

Robbie did no more than glance at the images I showed him, immediately confirming what he had already suspected was the site of the tower, and shrugged off my questions about the compendium with an admonishment to, “Ask Purah, she’s the one studying the Slate.”

We were back outside the lab within half an hour of arriving, our errand abruptly complete.

“I could have saved that picture of you sleeping,” I told Link as we climbed into our saddles for the short ride back to the Castle.

“I could have napped a great while longer,” he replied, with a lazy sort of stretch.

I couldn’t help but laugh, and then wheeled Royal back towards the docks.

“We can go in the front gate,” Link said, softly. “I trust you to immediately ship him off to Hebra, should he attempt to make a fool of me.”

“Without hesitation,” I agreed.

We did not run into his father on the way into the Castle – which was almost a pity. I would have loved to have met the man. I was still feeling a strange sort of languor, after our afternoon of truancy. I kept trying to tell myself that ultimately it was uneventful – we laid in the grass and Link took a nap – but that didn’t feel like the truth.

When I stood on the flagstones of the Castle, it again felt like the world had changed since my last visit. Only, this time, it had only been a few hours.

“You didn’t teach me any swear words while we were out,” I reminded him as I made my way back towards my rooms. I didn’t have to look back to know he had resumed his standard three pace following distance. After the past few weeks I felt like I would know his footsteps, his _presence_ , anywhere.

“I was hoping you had forgotten.”

“I have a long memory, sir knight. I will just have to approach Urbosa for a lesson.”

“Better her than me.”

“I have time for a meal before devotions,” I said, with the intention of asking him to share the meal with me.

“Then I will let you get to it,” he cut in, immediately. “I will be around, should you need me, Princess.”

He hurried off, leaving me dazed in his wake.

I climbed the stairs to my room, and then onward to my study. I hadn’t updated my research journal in ages. I reflected that I hadn’t been writing in my diary, either...

I hadn’t felt like I needed to write. I was happier, less conflicted, more driven. I wrote to clear my mind, clarify my thoughts, record my activities for later review...

...perhaps that was the issue. Maybe there wasn’t anything happening that I was willing to commit to paper.

 _After Ganon_ , I reminded myself. _We will have all the time in the world to sort it out once we’ve dealt with the problem at hand_.

I ended up missing dinner, lost in thought as I was, and wandered out onto the walkway just as the moon rose. Serenity was easy to come by this night; the revelation that I was more content than I could ever remember being in my life was good for inspiring inner peace. I sat in the glow of the almost-full moon and tried to just be thankful.

 _Thank you for him. Thank you for today. Thank you for choosing a knight who believes in me. Thank you for giving me the time to figure this all out. I will summon this power. I will be worthy of this birthright. I will be worthy of his faith_.

“Go to bed,” his voice chided. I opened my eyes and saw that the moon was, indeed, past its apex. I had lost track of time again, but this time – like at the Spring of Courage – it was not a disappointment. I felt _better_ after this night’s devotions, and wondered if maybe I wasn’t on the right track.

“Speak for yourself,” I told the darkness. I had no idea where he was... somewhere close by, watching over me; beyond that he could have been anywhere.

“I’m already well rested,” he countered. He was somewhere behind me – in the study or upon its roof or perhaps on the wall beside the walkway.

The memory of his nap in the meadow brought a smile to my face. “Fair enough,” I capitulated, and pushed off the flagstones. As my knight commanded me, I went to bed. It was only after I had laid down, gotten comfortable, and hovered at the edge of sleep, that it suddenly occurred to me that he had called me _Zelda_ today, while he lay on his back beneath me with a frog on his face; the first time he had ever used my given name. The thought stirred my heart and kept me from sleep for several hours, until I forced myself to think of something – anything – else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friend had his cancerous organ removed on Wednesday and is home now. He's doing AWESOME and I love that I was able to come out here and help him and his family. Things are going very well, and I am really appreciative of all the love & support I've got from so many amazing strangers via this site. Thank you!


	8. Courage & Patience & Grit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Memory 12, Zelda states she has "recently returned from the Spring of Courage."  
> No memories or journal entries here; shit starts going downhill on the next chapter. You'll still like this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where you can argue that I'm diverting from canon. Zelda never gets a chance to say what happens at the Spring of Courage (or, for that matter, the Spring of Wisdom), while we're shown her praying at the Spring of Power. I contend SOMEthing happened at both, since Link is historically tied to the Triforce of Courage, and Zelda the Triforce of Wisdom.  
> Also, with the ease with which Link chats with Hylia through the game, the idea that Zelda gets complete radio silence is pretty shitty and I'm not buying it.

We stayed in the Castle while the winter winds made travelling across Hyrule unbearable. I kept in contact with the other Champions via letter, and received updates on their continued improvement in piloting their Divine Beasts. Link trained day and night with sword, shield, and bow, and the spectacle often distracted me from my own training. I had thrown myself back into my day and night devotions, convinced – as Link was – that I was on the right track. Serenity was continually easier to find, and more and more frequently I would slip in a trance and lose track of time completely. On these occasions, I was always summoned back to reality by Link’s soft voice in my ear.

By the time the first thaw arrived, I was rapidly becoming disillusioned. Time was slipping away and _still_ I had no indication that the sealing power was any more accessible than it had been ten years prior. Yes, I could find serenity; _yes_ , I could slip into the trance that was so highly regarded by the Sheikah; _yes_ , I was having an easier time with my daily devotions.

After ten solid years, I was done with _progress_ and needed _results_.

“My silent princess cannot thrive in such a domestic environment,” Link said one night as I stood from a particularly vexing commune with a crescent moon. The comment – drifting out of my darkened study – stopped me dead in my tracks. We had been friendly in the Castle – far more so than before our extended trip, months prior – but there had been nothing to indicate our lazy afternoon in the wildflowers was anything but an exceptional day.

“Unless you have something from Purah or Robbie or one of the Champions to draw me away, then I remain captive,” I replied softly. I worried, as I always did, whether I was reading too much into his statement. I was his Princess, as he was Hylian. And I had spent the evening in silent prayer, so...

“Does this count?” He stood – he’d been sitting at my desk, the insufferable sneak – and handed me a small paper packet that had a dry sort of rattle to it, like it was full of-

“Seeds?” I asked, feeling my head cock to one side.

“If the silent princess does not grow in captivity, maybe the better solution is to spread it in the wild.”

“You’ve been collecting silent princess seeds?” I gasped, pressing the crackling paper to my sternum.

“It seemed to be important to you. I found the one you have in the herbalism book, and-“

“Do you sit in my study and read my books while I’m sleeping?” I interrupted. I tried very hard to sound vexed, but I was actually touched.

He was quiet for so long that I began to worry I had overstepped, but he shifted a bit in the shadows and I saw that his jaw was working, shifting back and forth between stubbornly silent and speaking his mind. I stepped into the study, passing carefully around him, and sat at my desk to wait him out.

“Yes,” he said at last. I was dying to know what else he had considered saying, but the moment felt too raw.

“Which is your favorite?”

His shoulders dropped a minute amount, but it was enough for me to read his relief.

“I like all the history,” he replied, moving back into the deeper shadows just inside the doorway. “It’s odd, how much of it seems... familiar. I didn’t have much access to books, growing up, and most of what we got were adventure stories with morals for children. But many of those legends... I don’t know, it’s almost as if I could critique them for honesty.”

“You think the sword remembers more than just the historical fights with Ganon?”

“I do. I think it might hold onto all the memories of the people who wield it.”

“You think... ten thousand years from now, someone like you will pick up the sword and maybe see this conversation?”

“I would like to hope so.”

I wanted to ask more. I wanted to ask what memory he most would like to have passed along. I wanted to ask which memories the sword had shared stood out the most in his mind. I wanted to pick his brain for hours.

But I had a precious gift clutched in my fingertips that was owed some attention.

“This... these seeds, Link. They’re priceless. I cannot thank you enough.”

“You need not thank me, Princess.”

“Of course I do. And I must thank you in advance for going with me to plant them in some of the more appropriate places in Hyrule once the weather warms. Doing it now would just waste the commodity, as much as I am loathe to admit it. Now that the idea of venturing out has touched my mind, I am not content to stay here. We just must think of something to tell my father. He will not accept that I need a break.”

“You... forgive me if the suggestion upsets you, but you seemed to have luck at the Spring of Courage when last we went. Perhaps another visit? A planned visit, of a day or more?”

“You are worth your weight in diamonds, sir knight.”

He sketched a brief bow and then gestured towards the faint moonlight on the walkway. “You should sleep, if we are to make an escape on the morrow.”

I stood quickly and darted out of the room, and was rewarded with a ghost of a chuckle as I made a show of hurrying off to bed.

I paused at the far side of the walkway. Courage. I seemed to do well at the Spring of Courage, but perhaps that was only because he was with me. I glanced back at the study and saw him in the doorway, framed by darkness.

Courage.

“Link?”

“Princess?”

“What were you going to say? When I asked if you read my books while I was sleeping?”

He was still for a long time. I had learned never to give up on hope of him eventually answering, though, and I rested one hand on the stonework framing the doorway and waited him out. I felt like I'd already spent years waiting on Link, but every moment had been worth it.

“Ask me another time,” his voice ghosted out of the darkness. For what it was worth, he sounded apologetic, rather than upset or offended.

“I will,” I agreed, and made my way into my room, my heart skipping wildly in my chest.

Sleep was slow coming, as too many emotions warred in my chest: excitement for time outside the Castle, curiosity about what thoughts Link had wanted to voice but _not then_ , and an inexplicable flutter to my heart when I remembered his voice as he called me _his silent princess_.

 

*

 

“I wish to try again at the Spring of Courage,” I announced, with my head held high. “It is the most energy I have ever felt, Father; this might be the path I need to follow.”

“Are you sure you are not simply avoiding-“

“Mother often took me to the Springs, Father. She traveled often around Hyrule, and encouraged me to find beauty in the country I was born to protect.”

“Ah, yes. Right you are. And soon you will finally visit Mount Lanayru. Yes, I suppose visiting the Springs is well within reason. You _will_ take Link with you, Zelda; I will hear no argument there.”

“We have reconciled our differences, Father. After he saved me from the Yiga, I saw the Wisdom in your decision. And perhaps his presence with me at the Spring of Courage will help me connect with the essence of the Goddess there.”

My father smiled at me – smiled at me! – and again I felt that bubble of hope fill my chest. I would take Link to the Spring. I would unlock this elusive power. My father would finally be proud of me. And then we would save Hyrule.

Link was waiting for me at the front gates when I arrived, dressed for the road, an hour before midday.

“It is hard to take the horses to the Spring,” I advised as he pushed off the wall he had been leaning on and immediately fell into step behind me. “We shall go on foot.”

“And take twice as long,” he murmured under his breath.

“Quite the pity, I know,” I countered.

We made it past the Ranch before the bubble of joy in my throat burst, and spilled out as aimless laughter. Link jogged up to walk beside me, and shot me a questioning look.

I shrugged, letting my laugh subside into just a smile, and pulled out my Sheikah slate.

I halfway expected Link to fall into step behind me once more, but instead he kept pace at my side. I began to babble about the Slate, and the things we knew and didn’t know about the Guardians, and everywhere I had searched for the columns under the Castle, and the medicinal properties of every plant the Slate recognized as I aimed it at everything we passed.

We made it to the Spring of Courage in record time for being afoot, which was a pity, really. Link scouted out the entire ruin and decided it was safe for me to duck behind a half-ruined wall and change into the white dress my mother had left behind to be worn in the Springs. I'd learned my lesson the last time we'd come here; far easier to change than try to follow him in a dress as he scampered down sheer rock faces.

“No bananas,” he announced as I emerged, tugging the material into place.

“Oh, good. I so hate bananas.”

His lip quirked upward in a sly smile, and I fled whatever terrible thing he was about to suggest and headed into the Spring with – for the very first time – hope. I only had a few hours until the sun set, but perhaps it would be enough.

_It’s me again,_ I thought, inanely, as I waded toward the ancient statue. _I would like to plead with you once more, to relent and grant me the power to seal away the darkness_.

There was that electricity on the surface of the water, again, and I let it dance across my palms as I walked.

_My mother didn’t tell me how it was done, you see. I’ve been flailing in the dark my whole life. I want only to please you. I want only to do the work of the light. Please, instruct me. Please, help me fulfill my purpose. Please. Just... please._

I looked up into the statue’s eyes, and I prayed.

“Princess,” Link breathed into my ear. “Come, let’s warm you up. You can speak with her again tomorrow.”

“But I just got here,” I argued, and was surprised at the faintness of my own voice.

“It’s been hours, Princess. Come by the fire.”

“No. No, Link, I have to... I have to train.”

“Tomorrow, Princess.”

“Link-“

“Zelda,” he said, firmly, and the sound of my name in his voice silenced any other protest I might make.

I let him lead me to the fire he had laid, in the same spot it had been when last we were here. He urged me to change out of my soaked-through white dress, and I agreed only when he threatened to do it if I wouldn’t. Something about Link – as he said it – _shucking_ me out of the dress, woke me up enough to stumble behind the half-wall and pull the drenched garment off. I tossed it onto the rocks and realized I hadn't grabbed anything to change into.

“Link, where are my clothes?”

The top of his head appeared over the wall, and a shirt and pants were tossed over. “Here, use this. I’ve got everything else by the fire, so it’s warmed for you tomorrow.”

I took the items offered and – once I was sure he’d walked away – pressed them to my face and inhaled deeply, as they were definitely his spare clothes. The thick doublet and breeches – both a forest green – were much warmer than my typical travelling clothes. They were definitely sized for a male, and pulled tight across my chest and hips while hanging loose at my waist. Link was only a bit shorter than me, though, so the legs and arms were the right length. In all, it would be a perfectly reasonable way to sleep.

“I promise they don’t smell of bananas,” his voice drifted over the wall.

I must have blushed down to my toenails. How did he _know_? “One can never be too sure,” I countered, and cursed the quaver in my voice.

“Come, you need your rest.”

I came around the half wall and accepted his proffered bowl of soup, sitting down beside him to eat in silence. When I finished, he took the empty bowl from me and cleaned it over the fire. I should have stumbled over into the waiting pile of bedding and repurposed armor, but I knew I would not immediately find sleep.

“I thought... I so hoped it would be different this time.”

“You can try again tomorrow, Princess,” he promised softly. “If it feels like the right path, it likely is.”

A snide response leapt to mind, but I dismissed it. He had followed his destiny. He had proven his strength to the sword he wore. If anyone could possibly have any idea what I struggled with, it was him.

Rather than a snappy retort, I voiced that thought. “That’s almost the precise opposite opinion I had of you when first we met,” I concluded.

“I’m glad of it,” he replied. “I would be gladder still if you slept.”

“Will you wake me before dawn?”

“I will.”

Without another word, I crawled into the welcoming pile of bedding, inhaled deeply, and was instantly asleep.

“Zelda. Wake up.”

“I’ve only just fallen asleep,” I protested.

“No, Princess, it’s been hours. The sun is just below the horizon. I promise I let you sleep as long as I could.”

Of course he had. I sat up wearily and allowed him to press a cup of something warm into my hands. I didn’t stop to consider what it might be, but simply drank deeply. The warmth immediately blossomed in my stomach as the liquid hit bottom, and flowed out to my hands and feet. I put it back to my mouth, much more awake now, and thought to actually taste it. There was no real flavor, but it still seemed to trigger all of my taste buds; as if  _warm_  could be considered a flavor in this case.

“That is lovely,” I breathed, inhaling deeply. It didn’t smell like much of anything, either; it was like breathing steam from a pot of water. “What is it?”

“You’re in worse shape than I thought, if you can’t taste it,” he observed. “You don’t want to know what’s in that. Just know that it’s the strongest thing I can brew to keep you warm.”

My mind flickered through all the things he could have put into an elixir to fend off the chill, and I felt my mouth twist. “Oh.” Bugs and bokoblin innards and the like. Yuck.

“It should last you the day, at least,” he told me. “It will... help me leave you to your task.”

The hesitation drew my eyes up to his. He worried for me, I could see it plainly on his face. What was it like, to stand helpless while I stood in a trance in the waters of the Spring? How long did he let me shiver at the Goddess’ feet before his resolve broke and he waded in after me?

Why couldn’t this be enough? Why couldn’t I be training to rule Hyrule after my father, and researching the ancient tech of the Sheikah, and wandering the wilds with an appointed knight who... who _cared_ for me, as well and as deeply as Impa or Urbosa did? Why wasn’t it enough for us to be the soldier and the scholar, or even the Queen and her Knight? Why did we _also_ have to be the Golden Princess and the Courageous Hero?

Why couldn’t my life be as simple as waking up to find Link had brewed me something warm to drink for breakfast before our adventures for the day?

Or a compromise! Why couldn’t Ganon just _wait_ another few years, and give us the chance to be just Link and Zelda, to find and restore the hidden towers, to bring the shrines back to life for Link to train in, to just take that packet of silent princess seeds and scatter them to the corners of the realm?

_Because he is the embodiment of evil_ , I reminded myself with a sigh and pushed myself out of the nest of blankets and clothing I had been ensconced in. _And the sooner we remove him as a threat, the sooner I can contemplate the life I wish to lead_.

Link had held my gaze while I had been lost in thought, and he silently offered me a hand up to help me find my footing. He handed me the white dress – a bit smoky, from a night by the fire, but definitely far warmer than it had been the day before – and I ducked behind the half-wall to change. I handed him the green clothing I’d worn to sleep in.

I bit back a handful of comments as I prepared to enter the water with the dawn. I wanted to ask him if I wore the green doublet better than he. I wanted to tease him, for having me sleep once again in his clothing. I wanted to prod at this _thing_ that hovered in the air between us, this energy that I could no longer doubt he felt. I wanted to thank him, for being my only comfort in these trials. I wanted to apologize – endlessly apologize – for not immediately seeing his worth, for wasting so much time pushing him away. I _wanted_...

I closed my eyes, pushed the thought aside, and waded into the water. I began my prayer with the entreaty, _I feel I have learned something of Courage._

I had been directing my prayers to Hylia, the patroness of Hyrule and my own family. She had been entrusted long ago with the protection of both our realm and the sacred power of the Triforce, and legend held her mortal incarnation was my ultimate ancestor.

But before her, the Triforce itself had been created by the Three Golden Goddesses: Farore, Din, and Nayru. Theirs were the essences Hylia protected, and Theirs were the sparks kept alive in the world by the Great Dragons, and Theirs were the spirits that created the three Springs: Courage, Power, and Wisdom.

I stood at the Spring of Courage, with Farore’s ultimate Champion at my back.

The thought reached me, then, that I was either going about everything wrong, or I was utterly blind to a simple truth that should have been obvious.

I knew nothing of the Triforce, other than it existed, the Royal Family of Hyrule protected it, and that it was the root cause of Ganon’s cyclical assaults. Everything beyond that was pure myth and supposition, long lost to the sands of time. If it was the sealing power I was to wield, then my time was far better spent in research than slowly freezing to death in a Spring.

But the glow in my mother’s face, that night on the walkway, gave the lie to that line of thought.

No, far more likely, the electricity I felt here at the Spring of Courage, that I had never felt before, that had given me so much hope, was caused not by any success on my part. Instead, it was the latent power of Farore recognizing Her sword on Link’s back.

I came back to myself, realizing the sun stood high in the sky, shining directly upon my face. There had to be something to that, to the hours feeling like nothing more than seconds, and half a day passing in the span of time it took to consider a single thought. It was enough to keep me in the water, my hands resting on the surface, in prayer and contemplation at Hylia’s feet.

And perhaps my acceptance of Link inspired that. Perhaps I was feeling something at the Spring of Courage because I had allowed some little bit of his Courage to rub off on me. I had stood up to my father, with his support – well, and Mipha’s, but still. I was here, now, because of Link’s belief in me. I was upright and well rested and _warm_ because of his support. And, ultimately, I was willing to stay in the chill waters of the Spring for far longer than he was willing to let me; and perhaps that was a kind of Courage as well.

_I would like to understand. But more importantly, I would like to fulfill my purpose. I cannot believe so much would be tied to the concept of Wisdom, and yet my own purpose to be intentionally shrouded in ignorance. I believe I am meant to understand, and I want to. Oh, how I want to. Please. I am ready. I am willing. Please_.

“Zelda,” I heard, a touch of panic in his voice that I had never heard before. I blinked and turned toward the sound, to find his face shrouded in shadows cast by the weak light of the moon.

“Link?”

“I’ve been trying to bring you back for over an hour,” he confessed, the relief fighting with the concern still heavy in his voice. “The temperature is dropping, you’ll freeze if you stay out here.”

I tried to move my feet, to follow him as he led me away from the ancient statue, but my limbs were leaden, and I stumbled awkwardly.

He said something I couldn’t understand – it was Goron, perhaps, as it brought to mind boulders tumbling down hill – and with a fluidity of motion that reminded me all over again of the years he spent with the Zora, he reached down and hooked an elbow behind my knees, sweeping me up into his arms.

I let my head rest against his shoulder as he strode out of the waters of the Spring.

Another failure, then.

He should have left me in the water. Had I passed out and drowned, I might not have noticed.

He had a consistent monologue running under his breath – it was so out of character for him, I couldn’t help but listen, fascinated, as he seemed to run out of things to say in Goron and switched over to Gerudo. The more sibilant tones of the desert language were better for cursing, I had always thought, and there were several phrases in there I’d definitely heard Urbosa say.

The only languages I knew besides Hylian were long since extinct. How fitting, that my knowledge should be so useless, for the things I needed it for, while Link’s was always applicable to the situation at hand.

It also occurred to me that I was either in shock or hovering on the edge of it, because my thinking was decidedly hindered.

“Can you drink this?” he asked, pressing a flask into my hands. I noticed, a bit distantly, that my fingertips were blue, and my hands didn’t seem to be listening to what my brain told them to do. Bemused, I watched as I _intended_ to take the flask from him, and besides a subtle flexing of the joints, my hands simply _did not_.

“Not on my own,” I answered, weakly.

He sighed. “Well, shit.”

I nodded. “Thank you. Appropriate usage. Got it.”

“Hate me for this later,” he said, and dropped to the ground beside the fire. He sat cross-legged around me, with my knees swung over his right leg and his left leg propped against my back. I was vaguely aware of _warmth_ seeping up from the ground through the soaked-through dress, thanks to the fire having warmed this area for the better part of two days.

Link was tugging green material over my head, then, and threading my arms through thick sleeves with a gentleness completely at odds with his haste. It was fascinating, honestly, and given the generally befuddled bemusement I suffered under, all I could really do was observe. He pulled the doublet down over the dress, and then pulled my sandals off and threaded my feet into the legs of the warm pants I’d slept in the night before. He stood, lifting me by the waistband of the pants, and settling the thick material over my hips. One hand snaked up my back, and he deftly loosed the laces of my dress and pulled it down, from under the doublet and over the pants.

Besides the arguable impropriety of the contact in general – and his hand up my shirt, to be honest – he managed to, how had he said it, _shuck_ me out of my dress without actually exposing any more of my skin than the dress itself left bare.

He tossed the soaked material onto a pile of rubble near the fire, and sat immediately back down, drawing me into his lap as he went. He shifted so my feet were nearer the fire, and reached down often to make sure they weren’t being burned. Then he set about slowly spoon-feeding me a bowl of what I assumed was soup. It was warm on my lips and throat, but I was so profoundly exhausted, it wasn’t really registering.

At some point, he shifted us again, wrapping me in his snowquill armor and pressing a flask into my now-functioning hands. He urged me to drink, and I sipped on the elixir as best I was able.

It was something similar to whatever I had been drinking before, and I could feel nothing but grateful as the warmth blossomed in my stomach and spread to my now-warm-and-dry limbs.

“You’re going to be alright,” Link said, so softly I wouldn’t have heard if my ear hadn’t been pressed to his chest.

I couldn’t tell if he was speaking for my benefit or his own, but the pronouncement was enough to lull me to sleep.

I woke up warm, and immediately assumed I was in Gerudo Town or Goron City. There was a fire to my left, and to my right... to my right...

Immediately to my right was Link. So immediate, in fact, that he was touching me. Or, rather, I was touching him, as I’d apparently passed the whole night in his lap. He was cross-legged on the stones of the ruins that contained the Spring of Courage, his left arm supporting my back and his right beneath my knees. My pillow was his left shoulder, my blanket his armor, and my clothing his old green doublet and pants. Propped in the bend of my hip was an empty flask of whatever warming elixir he’d brewed, and sitting nearby the empty bowl of soup he’d fed me. Just barely visible was the tip of the Master Sword, blade bare, laid out in easy reach in case he had need to leap to my defense in the night.

How had I ever doubted this man? He was quite literally the only reason I was alive.

“Thank you,” I said, convinced that was a far safer greeting than _good morning_ ; there was too much innuendo in the insinuation that it was good to wake up in Link’s arms.

He stiffened slightly, in what I had to assume was surprise, and then his shoulders slowly relaxed as he tipped his head down to meet my gaze. There was worry in his eyes, still, but the relief far outweighed.

“I am glad to see you awake,” he said, in a low tone that rumbled through his chest.

I should immediately rise. I should put a respectable distance between him and I. I should thank him for the actions he took to preserve my life, thank him _profusely_ for taking those actions in a way that protected my modesty, and beg him never to speak of this night again. I should remember that, even though he is my appointed knight and my sworn protector, he was still a _man_ and I was the unmarried Princess of Hyrule.

I flatly refused to do any of those things. I let my head sink back to his shoulder with a sigh, and did what I _needed_ to do, rather than what anybody else would have insisted I _should_ do.

As his arms tightened slightly around me, I whispered a confession to him.

“I failed again,” I said. “And this time I would have died, if not for you. Does She want my life?”

“No,” he countered, immediately, with a heat in his voice that warmed my soul. “You did _not_ fail, and She does _not_ want your life.”

“How can you say I did not fail?”

“Your goal is to unlock this sealing power, and that has not yet happened, but that does not make this trip a failure. Princess... _Zelda_ , I saw you stand there, unmoving, for a _day_. You started as the sun first rose and you continued long after it set and never, not once, did you move. You did not falter. You barely breathed. The water began to look as if it flowed _through you_ , as if you had ceased to be a part of the material world. You were _ethereal_. Whatever it is you are training to do, you are accomplishing it.”

I reached up with my left hand and took a handful of his tunic, grounding myself with his faith. I pressed my face into his chest and took a moment to praise everything, past or present, that had existed to bring this man into my life. “What would I do without you?”

“With some luck, you’ll never have to know. My life is yours, Princess.”

I felt the last thin thread of resist snap, and the fight went out of me.

I loved him.

Damn it, damn me, damn _him_ , damn everything to the cold oblivion from which Ganon sprang, _I loved him_. It was the single most foolish, ignorant, inconvenient thing I could have done, but there it was. I loved him. _I loved him._ Shit, shit, shit.

I needed more swear words.

I needed to get out of his lap.

I let go of his tunic, vainly attempting to smooth it out, and then shifted my weight to stand. He immediately stood with me, helping to lever me to my feet. I stretched, cognizant of his eye on me, and then wearily walked around the fire to where my white dress was sprawled across the rubble where Link had thrown it the night before.

_Do not think about Link taking your dress off and throwing it_. _Do not, you foolish, foolish girl_.

“Princess?”

I took the dress, grabbed my sandals, and went back to the half-wall where I had taken to changing.

“Zelda?”

Changing into the still-damp, chilled, smoky, but still somehow mostly clean white dress was the work of a moment, and I slipped into my sandals as I came back around the wall. I reached out to hand Link his green clothing and met a face colored by fury.

“You cannot be serious.”

I gestured wearily at the waters of the Spring. “If I have made progress, then I must continue.”

“Continue until, what? You freeze to death?” He went to say more, and then stopped. His jaw clenched, and then _shifted_ , the words carefully held back. He did that so infrequently with me now, it was actually painful to see.

“I trust in you to keep me on this side of life, sir knight,” I told him gently, and then turned my back on him and stepped once more into the water of the Spring.

There was a faint tingle of electricity on the surface as the cold water rushed up my calves, and I paused to steel my nerves. I was failing. I knew I was failing. This was an exercise in futility.

But hadn’t that been the story of my entire life?

Failure or not, I had to keep moving.

I took another step, and the electricity on the water became _palpable_ , driving up the hairs on the back of my neck and causing goosebumps to erupt down my limbs. Emboldened, I took another step, and the dress drank of the chilled water and clung to my legs as I fought back against a desperate shiver.

I hadn’t taken one of Link’s elixirs this morning. I was in for a long and cold day.

I glanced over my shoulder, to see Link grimly turn his back to me, face the entrance to the Spring, and once more guard my devotions with the Master Sword bared.

Failure or not. I would do it anyway. I would _keep_ doing it, for as long as he believed in me.

The electricity on the water _snapped_ , lifting up and crackling in the air. For one brief moment, it was almost visible, a faint glow where before there had only been cold dawn light.

And then, nothing.

It was gone, the water was just cold water once more, and I was freezing to death for _nothing_.

“Princess?”

I glanced back over at Link. He had sheathed the sword, and was standing, one foot in the water, one hand out to me.

“You’ve proven your Courage, I think. I don’t believe there is ought else you can do here.”

Was that what this was? Even knowing I would fail, I had to prove I would keep trying? I had to prove I would keep going, even unto death, if that’s what it took?

I reached out and took Link’s hand, and let him lead me back to dry land, and realized there was another option.

Perhaps I only had to prove my faith in _him_. I could face hardship and misery and likely death, because I had complete faith in him to save me.

I was a failure. I was an utter failure. I was an _abysmal_ failure. But Link was not. And for long as he stood behind me, I could have hope that I would, eventually, succeed.

It was not much, but it was more than I had come here with. I let Link lead me back to the fire, and I scooped up my stout travelling clothes, allowing myself to be flattered by his palpable relief. I stepped behind the half-wall again, relishing the warmth of my beloved boots, and paused for a moment before pulling the blue shirt over my head, the one to match the five Champions.

I had never felt like I deserved to wear it.

But Link wore it. And Link followed me, even unto death.

I pulled the shirt on, and stepped back around the half-wall to settle my belts and gear and Sheikah slate back into place. Link had stomped out the fire and stashed away all the rest of our gear, and was standing at the mouth of the ruins waiting for me. I walked up to him and extended a hand.

He looked at it for a moment, and then looked up to meet my eyes as he reached out and clasped my palm against his.

“Can we take the long way back?” I asked.

He gifted me with a soft smile and a nod. Then he tugged on my hand and led me away from the Spring.


	9. Not Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 11 (Shelter from the Storm) and Memory 12 (Father and Daughter), with Journal Entry 6.

We headed west, not intending to avoid the Castle, per se, but not desiring to make the most direct route back. We were only just cresting a rise over Lake Hylia when the rain came rushing in from over the lake. There was something about the little statues under the tree that gave me pause. How many little shrines like this were spread over the countryside? Were they something I should be visiting, as well? Rather than devoting my time to the Castle, to the Springs, should I be kneeling in the same places as the commoners of Hyrule?

To protect the realm, should I be more connected to it?

I slid the Sheikah slate out and captured the image just before the downpour reached us, and then darted for the shelter provided by the ancient old oak.

Link stood beside me just long enough to strip off most of his extraneous gear, and then took the Master sword a few feet away to begin working his way through the forms I had become accustomed to seeing him practice in quiet moments, on the walkway between my study and my bedroom.

“In the rain?” I teased, although my heart wasn’t in it.

He shrugged, a bit sheepishly, which intrigued me as a response. He glanced over and seemed to see the question in my expression and shrugged again. “I spent a long time in one position last night. I have some stiffness to work out.”

“Right,” I said, conscious that I was echoing his tone from the day he’d napped in the meadow.

He picked up on it, because of course he did, he _always does_ , but the only reaction I earned was a quirk of a smile as he focused on his swordwork.

I would have been content to watch him from the shadow of the tree, if not for the discontent that was settling rapidly back into my heart. Was my time at the Spring of Courage meant merely to drive home the idea that I was doomed to failure?

If my failure served a higher purpose, was it still failure?

That was the sort of thinking that got people killed, that bred wars and poverty and violence. I would not pursue it.

Link executed a perfect backflip and I barely bit back a sigh. I wasn’t allow to pursue... anything I wanted to. I was stubbornly refusing to think of Link as an object for pursuit, although the way he moved, the way the rain caught and trickled and traced, made that more difficult with every passing moment. What would I be, had this crisis not arose in my lifetime? If I had lived multiple times, like Link said the sword had shown him, then did I get lives in which I was not the Golden Princess, the defender of Hyrule against Ganon? Were there lifetimes where I was a crofter, a Sheikah, a scientist, a soldier, a Zora, anything but a Hylian princess?

Could my last life have been as a librarian? Maybe in Gerudo Town? It would explain so much...

But would I have met Link? The question immediately answered itself, since Link had crossed the length and breadth of Hyrule before even thinking to claim the sword that seals the darkness. He’d met most of the country in his travels; if we were anybody else, we were just as likely to meet as not.

Watching him, hearing him speak about _knowing_ me the moment we met, thanks to the sword, made it very hard indeed to believe we passed lifetimes without ever meeting.

“Are you warm enough?” He asked, solicitous in the face of his worry at the Spring. He didn’t pause in his practice, merely directed the question my way between his forms.

“I am, thank you,” I answered. “Even if it were to continue like this all day, I would be warm enough.”

He nodded and continued training.

My eyes drifted upwards. “I doubt this will end any time soon.”

Once the silence was broken, though, I felt compelled to fill it with the thoughts that were haunting me. 

“Your path seems to mirror your father’s. You’ve dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well. Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable.” I perhaps didn’t put the right emphasis on the word _admirable_ , because he slowed in his practice and shot me a sidelong look.

“I see now why you would be the chosen one.” I might have added yet another apology for originally doubting him, but he put his hand up to forestall me.

“What if... one day... you realized you just weren’t meant to be a fighter?” I paused, and he slowly lowered his sword to give me his full attention, picking up on my distress. “Yet the only thing people ever said was that you were born into a family of the royal guard, and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight. If that was the only thing you were ever told... I wonder, then, would you have chosen a different path?”

He stood still for a long time after I fell silent, the rain pooling on his shoulders before spilling down his tunic, trickling down his arms to steadily drip off the end of his blade.

“I cannot know,” he answered, pulling his eyes away from mine to look down at the sword that seals the darkness, the blade that had chosen him as much as he had fought to claim it. “Were I someone else, anyone else, I like to think I would have followed my heart, and pursued the path best fitted to me. My mother, surely, would have encouraged it, even if my father and my father’s father would have stood in the way.”

He swung the sword idly, then swept it up and over his shoulder to slide into its sheath on his back. Then he turned and slowly crossed the distance between us.

“But I’m not _anyone else_. I... have come to understand that I was not so much _suited_ for this life as I was _created specifically for it_. What I told Mipha was true; I understand that my choices are strictly limited to only the most mundane things. I have complete control over what I eat, who I speak to, _how_ I speak to them, but beyond that? The path I walk allows for no detours.”

“And do you resent the walls that limit your road?”

“Some days,” he admitted, and a bit of weight lifted from my shoulders. He crouched before me, to put our eyes on level, and carefully pulled one of my hands between his. “But most days, I am glad to be precisely where I am.”

_Oh_.

Courage, Zelda. Courage!

“Of late, I find I am always glad for you to be precisely where you are.”

He blessed me with another one of those rare genuine smiles. With a quick squeeze to my fingers, he released my hand and stood, unsheathing his sword as he moved back into the rain and continued his forms.

“How long do you intend to continue?” I asked.

“If the weather holds, I have another night like the last to look forward to,” replied, with neither hesitation nor so much as a glance in my direction. “I feel it best to exhaust my need to move now, so I don’t resent it later.”

My heart went right past skipped beats and launched airborne, it seemed, forcing me to sit up a bit straighter as it beat wildly in my chest. If the rain- he intended to- _oh_ , you fool girl, _say something_ -

As if on cue, the rain stopped. I watched the wall of water stalk down the hillside, departing as suddenly as it arrived. The clouds parted overhead, and a golden beam of sunlight fell directly on Link, as he stood with his sword held aloft. He slowly turned, put his arms to either side, the free hand palm-up, and turned his face to the sky.

“Really?”

The aggravation in his voice drove me straight to very undignified giggles, that I had a difficult time stifling. I wiped the water from my eyes to find Link standing once more before me, sword sheathed, and hand outstretched.

“It seems we are to return to the Castle today, Princess,” he said, his voice overly formal, I assumed to make up for the _suggestiveness_ of his previous words.

“It seems you are correct, sir knight,” I replied loftily, and took his hand.

We walked that way for a moment, hand-in-hand down the hill. He squeezed my fingers and released them, and we made our way back to Hyrule Castle as we had left, shoulder to shoulder. Once we reached the Castle Town, he hung back and followed on my heels, but until we crossed the gates into the Castle proper, he stayed close at hand.

“I need to report in, Princess,” he said, in a louder tone than I had grown accustomed to. Of course, the Castle was loud, and better for his words to be overheard-

_You’re overthinking everything again, stop. Just stop. Just wish him well and go to your room_.

“Of course, sir knight. You are dismissed.”

He sketched a bow and turned on his heel, disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the Castle.

I did not allow myself to watch him go, but instead turned and made my way back to my study.

Back to captivity.

For now.

 

*

 

Robbie rode into the Castle three days later on a Guardian.

It was quite the spectacle; he stood on what might have been the machine’s shoulders, behind its ‘head,’ with his hands on his hips looking mighty pleased with himself. It was a marked achievement, to be sure, and it drew half the Castle out to watch.

Link and I had been in my study; I was looking into anything I could find on the three goddesses who were Hylia’s predecessors, as well as any information on the smaller goddess shrines scattered around Hyrule. Should I be making pilgrimages to the individual villages across the countryside, to visit their shrines to the Goddess? Much like Link had visited every corner of the realm during his trials to master the sword that seals the darkness, perhaps I too needed to see more of Hyrule in order to properly Champion it. My mother had always encouraged travelling, after all.

I resisted going out to watch Robbie’s demonstration until I was sure my father had returned to his own work. Robbie would, of course, keep showing off for as long as there were soldiers interested in watching him put a Guardian through its paces.

It was very late in the morning before I risked going out onto the walkway.

“Incredible,” I had to say, as I looked down at the autonomic soldier. “We’re at a point now where we can actually control them! At the current rate, we’ll soon know all we need to know about the Guardians and the Divine Beasts.”

I turned to Link, to find him watching me rather than the Guardian below. It was warming in a way I couldn’t quite describe.

“And should Ganon ever show itself again, we’ll be well positioned to defend ourselves.”

“What are you doing out here, Zelda?”

_Shit_. I turned to see my father emerging from the Castle; he had to have come through my room and seen my absence. I would have been slightly better off had he found me in my study, since I had been researching sites of worship around Hyrule, but _of course_ he had to find me watching Robbie’s display.

I saw Link immediately drop to his knee and bow his head, and for some reason the gesture aggravated me. Rather than lash out, I steeled myself and replied with the same calm Mipha had taught me to use when dealing with my father the king.

“I... I was assessing the results of the experiment with the Guardians. These pieces of ancient technology could be quite useful against the-“

“I know that,” he interrupted, and his voice was almost gentle. Like he was speaking to a child, or an imbecile. “They are essential to Hyrule’s future, and our research demands that we keep a close eye on them. However, as the princess, you currently have a crucial unfulfilled responsibility to your kingdom.”

His voice took on a steely tone, and I let my eyes drop to the flagstones. I did not need the reminder that I was a failure; I already felt it keenly. He seemed resolved to rub it in my face at the smallest provocation.

“Let me ask you once more. When will you stop treating this as some sort of childish game?”

I felt his words in my chest, like he’d actually physically struck me. Game? _Childish_? I had stood in the waters of the Spring until Link grew concerned for my welfare, and he thinks I was treating this as a game? The chosen of the sword said I had proven my Courage, and he _dared_ accuse me of thinking of this as a _game_? I felt my feet shift on the flagstones as I squared up to my father.  

“I’m doing everything I can. I’ll have you know that I just recently returned from the Spring of Courage where I offered every ounce of my prayers to the Goddess-“ 

“And now you are here wasting your time,” he interrupted again. He didn’t care! He hadn’t even asked what had happened at the Shrine of Courage. “You need to be dedicating every moment you have to your training. You must be single-minded in unlocking the power that will seal Calamity Ganon away.”

“I already am,” I answered, letting my incredulity fill my voice. I had spent all morning researching other sites for prayer, other avenues I had not exhausted yet! “Don’t you see? There’s nothing more I can do!”

But he didn’t see. One look at his face showed he neither knew nor cared about what progress I might have made, what routes I was discovering to explore. He only cared for results, and even this break on the walkway was too much. “My hope... My hope is that you... That you will allow me to contribute here in whatever way I can.”

“No more excuses, Zelda! Stop running away from your duty. As the king, I forbid you to have anything to do with these machines from this moment on, and I command you to focus on your training.”

I stared at him in silence, stunned. I had been eager to run away from the _Castle_ , of course, and I resented my duty, my lack of freedom, but the ancient tech was as important to our success as my power! The prophesy said the power to repel Ganon _was buried in the ground_ , not found in the Princess’ knees on the flagstones! The focus was always on saving Hyrule, the focus had always been protecting my kingdom, but he seemed to think-

“Do you know how the gossip mongers refer to you?” he asked, cutting off my outraged train of thought. “They are out there at this moment, whispering amongst themselves: that you are the heir to a throne of nothing; nothing but failure.”

He could have slapped me, and it would have felt like less of an assault, less of a betrayal. We had not been close since Mother died and he realized he had to instruct me in something he did not understand. But this? These were not the words a loving father spoke to his child. These were insults to be hurled into the teeth of an enemy.

 “It is woven into your destiny that you prove them wrong. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I understand.” I understood far more than what he had meant to express, I was sure.

He turned his back on me and walked away.

I stood on the walkway for several long minutes, fighting to keep my composure. Raging at my father once he had walked away was the childish response, and I would rather command Link to move to Gerudo Town than sink to that level. When I finally was confident in my ability to turn, walk, and flee with dignity, I opted to go back into my study, rather than follow my father’s trajectory into the Castle proper. I was startled to find Link still on one knee, head bowed.

“Link?”

His head shifted slightly, so I knew he had heard me, but he did not move.

“Sir knight, there is no one here demanding your obeisance.” I didn’t feel right telling him to rise; he hadn’t knelt for my behalf, and I had no desire to ask him to. He belonged at my side, not my feet.

“Forgive me, Princess.” His voice sounded like it was being forced out between gritted teeth.

“I would forgive you anything, sir knight,” I confessed, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Although I see no reason for an apology?”

“I... reported to your father yesterday, as per his request. I told him of your dedication at the Spring. I thought... Forgive me, Princess, I thought it would buy you leniency. I do not understand why... but that is not my place. I can only ask forgiveness.”

“You told him... about the Spring? How complete was this report?”

He glanced up at me, and I was surprised to see his primary emotion seemed to be anger or frustration. He was almost as angry now as he had been when I’d decided to spend a third day in the Spring of Courage. The look I received, though, was faintly amused consternation.

“It was vague where it needed to be,” he said, with a quirk to his lips. “I kept my head, did I not?”

A fair point. “Come, we may discuss it at length another time. For now, I need to be away from this spot, and you shall refrain from similar shows of obeisance in the future.” I paused, and softly spoke the thought I had intended to keep to myself. “You belong at my side, not my feet.”

He rose immediately, and I strode past him into my study. He followed on my heels. I went to pull out my chair, but he reached it before I could and pulled it out for me, holding it for me as I sat. I shot him a smile of gratitude, and was surprised to see his own expression completely blank.

“Are you alright, Link?”

“I... no.” He admitted, and then shook his head. “I regret having spoken, I regret having lost the habit of my silence. And, to counter that, I cannot fathom my life if I had not. But over it all, I am... displeased... that my report to my king might have been used to distress you. It almost is as if your father has taken a page from-“ His eyes flew wide and his jaw snapped shut, jutting slightly forward as he clamped down on whatever thought he had nearly voiced.

“What is it?”

“Excuse me, Princess. I find I have my own research to conduct.” He let go of the back of my chair, where I had not realized he still leaned; it was perhaps a sign of how upset we both were by the events of the day, that we had lingered so closely.

“I cannot stay here,” I told him, before he could turn to leave. “Father cannot complain if we immediately travel to the Spring of Power. It will be ultimately fruitless, but I... I _cannot_ stay here.”

“Understood. I will be prepared to leave at first light.”

I had never seen him so distracted. He sketched a bow and then turned on his heel and stalked out of my study. He didn’t hop over the ledge, he didn’t disappear off the side or leap onto the wall; he strode down the walkway and into the Castle like everyone else, for perhaps the first time ever.

I was too distracted – both by my father’s harsh words and Link’s distressed reaction – to accomplish much of anything for the rest of the day. I packed for a journey, but I hadn’t fully _un_ packed from our last outing, so I had little to collect. I eventually found myself at my desk in my bedroom, with my journal open and the pen clenched tightly in my grip.

I hadn’t written for weeks. Everything that had transpired between Link and I was missing from these pages, and while the idea of our history being missing was unsettling, ultimately it was the right decision. How terrible could it be, if someone in the future stumbled across the journal of a confused 16-year-old Princess, as she babbled on about how she had stupidly fallen in love with her appointed knight? How life-ending could it be if my father were to decide to violate my privacy? And, honestly, at this junction I had no faith whatsoever in my father’s sense of human decency.

With that thought fresh in my mind, I wrote an entry for the day, not bothering to leave space to later fill in the missing weeks.

 

_Father scolded me again today. He told me I am to have nothing more to do with researching ancient technology. He insisted that I focus instead on training that will help me awaken my sealing magic._

_I was so frustrated and ashamed I could not even speak. I’ve been training since I was a child, and yet..._

_Mother passed the year before my training was to begin. In losing her, I lost not just a mother, but a teacher. Mother used to smile and tell me, “Zelda, my love, all will be well in the end. You can do anything.” But she was wrong. No matter how hard I try or how much time passes, the sealing power that is my birthright evades me._

_Tomorrow I journey with Link to the Spring of Power to train. But this, too, will end in failure. Such is my curse._

 

I saw Link in the courtyard below my walkway as I prepared to leave the next morning, and I hurried down to meet him. He had his back to me when I approached, so I was taken by surprise when he turned to greet me and exposed a freshly cut lip and what looked like the beginning of a black eye.

“What-“

“I will tell you on the road,” he assured me softly, with a serious sort of look. I nodded and immediately dropped the subject.

“We did not discuss our route,” I said primly as we walked out of the Castle. The number of guards on the grounds seemed markedly reduced this morning; there were fully half as many at the gate as was the standard. It was all I could do to ignore my own growing suspicions. “As much as I would rather trek through Kakariko, I feel we should follow a more northern route, across the Thims, past Inogo, and then northward to the Akkala Citadel.”

“As you wish, Princess,” he agreed easily.

Not one of the guards acknowledged him by name as we left the Castle, passed through the awakening Castle Town, and made our way out to the Ranch. Neither of us had thought to have our mounts brought up, but we did not mind journeying on foot, and the walk to the Ranch was pleasant. Link went in to retrieve Royal, although he left Epona behind and instead brought the stallion he had ridden to the Tena Ko’Sah shrine, all those months ago. I hadn’t seen the horse since then.

“Is something wrong with Epona?” I asked as we trotted out of earshot of the Ranch hands.

“No,” he answered, shortly, and then seemed to think better of it. “She has a very gentle temperament, and I am... I did not wish to upset her.”

My heart, this man.

“And this horse is... tougher?”

“Wilder,” he corrected. The stallion put truth to the word, tossing his head and turning as if to dart off the road. Link reached forward and rubbed a hand on the horse’s neck, shushing him in low tones. “A battle of wits with this guy will be good for him and I both today.”

“Link... Is there any connection between your... very minor injury... and the lack of guards around the Castle this morning?”

He shot me a very guilty look. “Probably.”

“Is that what you said you would tell me on the road?”

“Yes.”

I waited for a few minutes before deciding he wasn’t going to speak. “Well, when you’ve decided that we’ve reached a road that counts towards that time, please let me know.”

He snorted and reined in his stallion, with Royal contentedly following suit. It was easier to converse at a walk, and although he did not immediately speak, I knew he at least intended to, and was happy to wait him out.

“I realized that the way your father acted yesterday was a little too similar to the way my father generally acts,” he said. It was not at all what I expected to hear, and it took me a moment for my mind to catch up. “He seemed to be pushing you away, shaming you as a means of promoting advancement. It’s... it’s shit, Princess, since you’re practicing that word, and I’m sorry. I know all too much what that is like.”

“Thank you,” I managed, still a bit surprised. “But what does-“

“I confronted my father,” he said, and I was very proud of my utter lack of outward reaction. “I asked him if he had told the king to shame you, and he laughed about it. Said our sovereign needed lessons in fatherhood from someone with some success in the field, and he had volunteered his services. I’m not sure how accurate all of that is, but I... took exception to it.”

“You fought with your father?” I asked, struggling to keep an even tone and mostly succeeding.

“I drove the Master Sword into the flagstones and told him to draw it, if he was such a great man. There were... other words involved, as well. Particularly when I found out my... my mother had recently passed, and he had opted not to tell me. He was... he was _proud_ of himself, for keeping me in the dark and making sure I... I stayed _focused on my training,_ and he hadn't let me _run away from my duty_. And it was so close to what the king said to you...”

He was relating it all with no emotion. If he hadn’t paused to search for words and swallow back the sadness I _knew_ was lurking behind those impassive eyes, there would have been no sign at all of how devastated he was. I reached out and took one of his hands off the horse’s reins and gripped it tightly in my own.

“My father did not attempt to draw the sword, even when I called him a coward. Several of his men stood up to support him then, and I included them in my offer. When they all declined, I said that it was for the best that they not try, because I could beat all of them, unarmed, before any of them could even lay a hand on the hilt. I said it was good I was there to defend the royal family, since the rest of them were cowards who stole success from their betters; they were all lucky to be allowed to rest on my laurels, like my father.”

I felt my jaw drop as he spoke; I had known he was competitive – his race with Urbosa taught me that, long ago – and he had shown anger before on my behalf, but the two paired together were something else entirely. He canted a sideways look at me and then shrugged ruefully. “I am better off not talking, really. I get in less trouble when I keep my mouth shut.”

“So what happened?”

“My father stepped forward. I’m not sure if he was actually going to try to test my claim, but I wasn’t about to give him a head start. I disarmed him and fought off the rest of his men with his weapons. Then I drove _his_ sword into a gap between the flagstones, threw his shield at him where he lay in the dust, pulled _my_ sword out of the center stone where I’d left it, and walked out.”

“How... how many men were in there?”

“My father’s a Captain, and it was most of his unit, so... maybe fifty?”

“Link!”

“I didn’t _kill_ any of them. They’ll be shorthanded for today, but Robbie has all those Guardians right outside the Castle Town, and honestly if Ganon returns right this second, none of them will do us any good anyways.”

I didn’t know what to say, but he wasn’t finished yet.

“The Commander of the Guard – good man, named Lucian – stopped me. Suggested I might need to let myself be arrested. I explained it was a family dispute that others had involved themselves in, and Lucian agreed to let it go, so long as I gave the report to the King.”

“No,” I gasped.

Link shrugged. “So I did. I explained to King Rhoam that my father is a coward, and that I was a knight _in spite_ of him, not _because_ of him. I said we had experienced a family dispute related to the death of my mother, and that his men had exhibited loyalty in defending their captain. If there was to be any censure, it was to be borne by myself and my father.”

I squeezed Link’s hand tighter. “You _didn’t_. What did my father say?”

Link shrugged again. “Not much. I finished by saying any punishment I was to bear, I would happily take upon my return from the Spring of Power, where I had been ordered to travel with my charge upon the next morning. We would be skirting Death Mountain, where there had been increased monster activity, and I was unwilling to delay and risk my charge would leave without me and thus be exposed or unprotected. He thanked me for my report and dismissed me.”

There was too much to sort through; I couldn’t choose a response. I wanted to thank him for defending me. I wanted to absolve him of any guilt. I wanted to assure him that I would make sure there was _no_ punishment coming. I wanted to apologize for being the catalyst for his confrontation with his father. But more than anything else...

“I am so sorry to hear about your mother.”

His head jerked up, and he looked at me in surprise for a moment before his features softened into a sad sort of gratitude. “Thank you. She... she’d been sick since...” He sighed and shook his head. “She took sick looking for Saria, all those years ago, and just never got better. She moved to Tabantha for the drier air, and it did help for a time. She had taken a turn for the worse, right before I was appointed your knight, and I-“

“You went back to Tabantha to give her the good news yourself,” I finished.

He nodded. “And to say goodbye. She knew it was only a matter of time, and she made sure I had my peace before leaving to take up my new position at the Castle. She was so proud of me... I will always remember her as I last saw her, rocking in her chair in the sunshine, smiling and waving at me as I left.”

“It is a good memory to have,” I agreed, and he smiled again, a little wider this time. “I would have liked to meet her.”

He shook his head, breathing out what passed as a laugh from him most of the time. “She would have _loved_ to meet you. You weren’t exactly fond of me at the time, though.”

“No,” I acknowledged with a pang. “I regret my bigotry in your regard cost me the chance to meet a good woman.”

“She had no expectation of actually meeting you, Princess,” he assured me. “It was not an opportunity lost, in her estimation.”

“I would appreciate if you would stop being quite so magnanimous with my faults,” I countered, and was rewarded with an audible laugh. He squeezed and then released my hand, reaching out to soothe the stallion who had grown increasingly spirited as we spoke. I watched as the horse stilled instantly.

“How does that work so well?” I asked, tipping my head to the horse.

“It is the only way they know how you feel,” he answered, reaching out to match action to word. “He might sense that I am upset or lost or agitated or happy, but he has no way of knowing what that feeling is directed at. As long as I soothe him, he knows he and I are still amiable.”

I looked at the back of my horse’s head, and wondered if he was in a perpetual state of fright, given my own continual distress and anxiety.  I reached out with one hand to pat his neck, and was surprised to see him lean into it. I had to counter him with a tug to the reins, he’d been so eager for my touch.

“There’s a sweet boy,” I murmured, and was surprised to see him throw his head and prance a few steps. I couldn’t help but shoot a sideways look at Link.

His eyes were soft as he watched me. I hadn’t seen the look from anyone enough to recognize it readily, but I couldn’t help but think that maybe – just maybe – he was proud of me.

“There’s no reason for him to believe my failures are in any way related to him,” I said, perhaps a bit too defensively.

Link sighed, and shot me an exasperated look. It was strangely more comforting than a spoken rebuttal. He didn’t think me a failure.

He was wrong. But I could take solace from the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have been so kind & thoughtful regarding my friend and my rather stressful life atm, I wrote up a bit of an explanation on tumblr.  
> http://themarydragon.tumblr.com/post/160195801848/life-update  
> Thank you, so very very much, for all the kind words and well wishes. This community continues to amaze me. So much love!


	10. Circadian Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 13 (Slumbering Power) and the last of the Journal Entries, 7 and 8.

It was hard to reach any conclusion - given how quickly we readjusted to being on the road - beyond that this was the life the two of us were meant for. Link monitored the countryside for threats – including the rapidly changing Hyrulian weather – and I pointed the Sheikah slate at _everything_ , so we were both constantly in motion, continuously pointing out things to the other. I was learning how to tell the relative age (and thus, strength) of bokoblins by the color of their fur, and in turn teaching Link that the flowers and insects and monster parts he was already collecting all had far more uses than just in elixirs. I didn’t expect him to take interest in the multiple dyes that could be extracted from nearly everything in the environment, but when I told him flint could produce a fine black color in most forms of cloth, he started going out of his way to collect it.

“Seeking for a flare of the dramatic?” I taunted, cheerfully. “Or perhaps you want to look more like _old man bokoblin_?”

“Black fur, mature, _white_ fur, old,” he countered, without an ounce of malice in his tone. “Not that there are many of either in the world right now, to show you. But, _no_ , Princess, I was thinking more to dye my Sheikah armor a darker color, both to distance myself from their warriors and to further increase its usefulness in stealth.”

“How many sets of armor do you have crammed in that bag?”

He shot me a look that was probably meant to be mysterious but I read only mischief in it. “Enough.”

I rolled my eyes, and went back to my slate, pointing it at the river bank and delighting in the various kinds of fish lighting up on the screen.

We stopped earlier than we would have liked, taking a room once again at the inn by the Inogo Bridge. It happened so similarly to our last stop here, all those months before: I asked for two rooms, Ivonna exchanged a long look with Link, over my shoulder, and then only passed one key over the counter. She walked us up to one room, let us in, and bid us good night.

The room we were given on this night, though, was the last one on the floor; in addition to twice as many windows by grace of being on the corner, it also had a serviceable little balcony.

“Oh, how wonderful, I will be able to see the moonrise from here,” I observed. “Was this your doing?”

Link shrugged noncommittally, and I took it as a yes. While he set about organizing the room to better suit his needs, I knelt on the balcony and used the rising moon to send my devotions once more skyward.

There was no point in this trip to the Spring of Power. If there was any energy present at the Spring of Courage, it was because I had the benefit of Link’s presence at the time, and his teaching-by-example in the months leading up to it. I had come with a certain measure of my own Courage, and I believed that Link’s assertion was correct in how I had passed whatever test I might have been given there.

But I had no Power to speak of, nothing to recommend myself to the Spring of Power. Historically, the Triforce of Power was the one most coveted by earlier iterations of Ganon; the Princess held Wisdom and her Hero, Courage. Neither of us had any particular ties to the site. And beyond that, the power that was directing me to this Spring was not my own, but rather that of my father. Were _he_ to travel to the Spring of Power, then perhaps _he_ would be granted some measure of the Goddess’ Blessing.

And wasn’t my powerlessness the crux of the issue? Wasn’t I seeking out the Springs and spending this time in devotions to the Goddess because I needed power I didn’t have?

I was going anyway, of course. If I had learned anything at the Spring of Courage, it was that giving up was the ultimate failure. Even knowing the trip was futile, I would make the trip. I would wade into the Spring. I would pray to the Goddess there even if it were to take me to the very brink of death. I would keep doing it until I could take my prayers, instead, to the Spring of Wisdom, where all my hopes dwelled.

Actually, that wasn’t _completely_ true. Many of my hopes dwelled in the man who was accompanying me on this journey. I took a mental step away from my devotions to come back to the present. I cast a look over my shoulder, into the room, to find Link sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, watching me.

Not watching the door. Not cleaning or organizing or preparing the room, as was his wont when I was reading, resting, or otherwise aware of his actions. Not training with his sword, as he commonly did in free moments in the outdoors.

No. He was cross-legged on the floor, one elbow resting on his knee, the associated fist propping up his chin, _watching me_.

His eyes immediately met mine, and rather than look away or exhibit any degree of guilt, he held my gaze and smiled.

The moon reached its apex, shining brightly into the room, and casting light into the shadows around his eyes, making them sparkle as they looked at me. I could not believe anything but that we reached perfect understanding in that moment.

I loved him, and he knew it.

And now? Oh, now, I could see he loved me. This was not the look a soldier gave his sovereign, or one friend cast towards another. No, I had studied his expressions for the better part of a year, I _knew_ him, and I was not mistaken in this. _He loved me_.

And we both knew there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.

Just like I was powerless in the face of my father’s decree, so too was I powerless in this. If my father thought I was being distracted from my duty by the Guardians, what would he think of _this_? There was to be no room in my heart for anything but the Goddess, but my training, but the _power_ I so desperately sought.

Would he send Link away? Would he limit our time together? Would we be kept apart, but for when Ganon finally emerged? I had thought, when I was younger, than my father wanted what was best for me, but I knew now that was false. He wanted what he thought was best for Hyrule, regardless of whether or not I could withstand it. I had no hope that he would be reasonable, that he would trust me to balance this... love... with duty.

Already, I found myself standing too close, lingering too long, laughing too loud, leaning too deep. If we voiced this thing between us, much less _act_ upon it, it was only a matter of time before it was discovered.

We both knew it.

“Will you watch over my sleep, or take your own rest, sir knight?” I asked, heedless of the tone of my voice. He could read into it whatever he wished.

“I slept last night, Princess,” he answered softly. “I will sit on the balcony and guard your rest.”

I nodded and pushed up to my feet, only peripherally aware that he was mirroring my actions. A bubble of complaints and alternate suggestions rose in my throat, and I swallowed them back with difficulty. I thought I had met with success when I blurted out, “Stay close,” as I stepped back into the room.

He paused on his way through the balcony door. We were too close, again, and Goddess knows I didn’t care. He was going to ask and I was going to say something stupid and then everything would be ruined-

“I sleep better when I know you are near,” I finished. It was not what I wanted to say, not what I _wanted_ , but it was true and safer than the alternative.

“My life is yours,” he replied, just barely more than a breath.

I stepped back, turned, and made it to the side of the bed before my resolve wavered and I looked back.

He was still standing, eyes clenched shut, white-knuckle grip on the doorway. His jaw worked for a second before locking down so hard I could hear his teeth grind. He shook his head and stepped onto the balcony.

I sat down carefully, aiming for silence, where I wanted to throw myself onto the bed and complain loudly. I took the pillow off the head of the bed and tossed it onto the foot, and then swung up so I was laying on my side facing the balcony. From this position, I could see him carefully removing his extraneous gear and settling cross-legged in the moonlight. He glanced back and double-took when he saw me lying with my head at the foot of the bed.

“That’s hardly fair,” he teased, and I heard a touch of self-consciousness in his tone.

“What, you can sit and watch me for hours and I can’t do the same to you?”

“No.”

“Well, tough,” I sighed, and settled against my pillow. “Turnabout is fair play.”

“I’m supposed to be guarding your sleep; I can’t have my back to the balcony. You’ll be staring at my back.”

“And what were you doing while I was in devotions just now?”

He said something so softly I could not possibly have heard it, but I was so keyed into him anymore it was effortless to discern his voice against the restless crickets beyond the window and the continuous rush of the river under the Inogo Bridge.

Before I could respond, though, he turned back towards the night. “Promise me you’ll sleep.”

“I promise,” I answered.

I followed through on that promise, as well, drifting off quickly on the wings of the memory of his whispered reply. He’d been _enjoying the view_ , he said.

 _Enjoying the view_.

 

*

 

Staying at the citadel in Akkala was like staying with the Zora, only I was passed around by Hylian nobility and military advisers instead of, as Link had once said, fish people. Link was pressed, as Farore’s Champion, into conducting an inspection on the garrison.

He handled it with good grace; far better than the general in charge of the garrison did. While the general was focused on the polish of breastplates and placement of buckles, Link went through and tested every weapon every soldier held.

He found fifteen that were in poor repair, and proved it by breaking them.

It took several hours, and in the end I was in the perfect position to suggest the general spend more time on weaponry and less on pageantry. While he was displeased, I saw open smiles on the faces of many of his soldiers. We were left alone for the remainder of the evening, and I was allowed to sit devotions on the roof of the citadel, with Link lounging placidly nearby.

 _This_. This is what Link and I should be doing. We could do so much good for this country! The idea of roaming Hyrule, meeting people, making meaningful improvements, bettering the nation from the ground up... it felt _right_ , whereas this fool’s errand to the Spring of Power-

But that was what Father had been saying, wasn’t it? I thought devotions at the Spring of Power were a fool’s errand. That was why he believed I didn’t take my training seriously, why he had done what he could to limit my distractions and force me down the path of dedication to the Goddess.

“He doesn’t know!” I said aloud, slapping the stones of the Citadel roof.

Link, for what it was worth, didn’t flinch as I emerged from my silent devotions with a shout. “What doesn’t he know?"

“Anything!” I bit the word off, practically spitting it at the moon. “Mother _died_. She told me _nothing_ , she told him _nothing_ , he has _no idea_ what I’m supposed to be doing! Mother left me _nothing_ , and he assumed that it was too much to write down. But he doesn’t _know_. I’m following a blind man!”

“What do you think you’re supposed to be doing?”

“The signs of a resurrection of Calamity Ganon are clear, and the power to oppose him lies dormant in the ground,” I quoted easily. “The missing columns, or towers, or _both_ , maybe they’re not the same thing, they are dormant in the ground, they are our key. The Divine Beasts were found buried, but we know there is more. There has to be something that will activate the Shrines, which, coincidentally, were meant to assist in _your_ training.”

“And your own power? The sealing power that will lock Ganon away, once he’s been struck down by the rest of us?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, bitterly. “I have been told one thing and felt so many others that I’m a conflicted mess. And ultimately it doesn’t matter _what_ I think, because I am powerless to contradict my father. I must do this the way he believes I must, and not even entertain an alternative.”

“Is there anything I can do to lighten this burden for you?”

Bless this man. “Stay with me.” I didn’t stop to think about it, didn’t consider any alternatives. It was the most fundamental need I had ever known: his support, his protection, his love. I didn’t think I could stand to live without it, now that I’d grown accustomed to its warmth.

“My life is yours, Princess,” he answered. Somehow it never sounded rote; he always voiced it with the utmost sincerity. “Until you relinquish it, it is yours to command as you wish.”

“I am going to hold you to that, you must know.”

“Please do.”

The weight was off my shoulders again, and I slumped a bit on the flagstones with a sigh.

“You need sleep,” he chimed in. This _did_ sound like rote repetition.

“Are you sleeping this eve?”

“Seeing as we’ll spend tomorrow night at the Spring, yes.”

“You probably shouldn’t _encourage_ me to get hypothermia,” I informed him, struggling to keep my tone light as my heart fluttered.

“There’s nothing wrong in finding the good in a bad situation,” he countered.

The acknowledgement that it was, indeed, a bad situation was too close to my thoughts from the night before. I sighed and stood, sobered. “Very well. Where is safest for us to find our slumber, sir knight?”

He shut his eyes, seeming to regret having said anything to dampen the mood. Honestly, it was necessary. I shouldn’t be submitting to the waters of the Spring as an excuse to spend another night in Link’s arms.

“Royal quarters, Princess,” he answered, and led the way.

There were multiple apartments set aside for the royal family in the Akkala Citadel, mostly because it was the largest encampment of soldiers outside Hyrule Castle and royalty visited often for various ceremonial purposes. I requested the suite I had stayed in as a child, claiming it to be a whim of nostalgia, as I had missed my mother more acutely of late. In actuality, there was an adjoining bedroom meant for a nursemaid that I intended Link to sleep in.

The rooms were precisely as I remembered them, and were quickly turned over for our use, since we had come unscheduled and unannounced.

“The royal guards' quarters are this way, Sir Link,” the steward prompted Link, when he’d made no move to leave.

“I am well aware,” Link said, and then ignored him.

“Sir Link does not sleep,” I told the steward, indicating he was free to go. “He will stand guard at my door, so please warn the staff not to come in unannounced.”

“Oh, yes, of... of course,” the steward stammered, and let himself out.

“My legend needs no help from _you_ ,” Link chided. “'Does not sleep.' Once that rumor gets around it will be impossible for me to _get_ any sleep.”

“I shall always be happy to provide you a comfortable place to hide when you become drowsy, sir knight,” I declared as over-dramatically as possible. “For the time being, however, lock the door and sleep in Impa’s old bed.”

“Impa? Impa of the Kakariko, Impa? She slept here?”

“Of course. She was my nursemaid, while I was yet young enough to need one.”

Link looked aghast at the thought. “But... _Impa_?”

I shrugged. “What is amiss with Impa having been my nursemaid?”

“Well, she’s neither a nurse nor a maid, for one. She’s better called an assassin!”

“Who better to guard my sleep? I had first Impa, then Urbosa, and now you.”

Link dropped onto the deceptively soft mattress. “No wonder you have no trouble sleeping. You probably never feared anything in the dark, as a child.”

...while Link had his dearest friend stolen away by bokoblins when he was young. We had so much in common, it was easy to forget how starkly different our upbringings had been.

I shook my head, and deflected the subject. “There are three rooms in this suite; this one for you, the front room with the couches, and a room through there, where I sleep,” I said, pointing to each chamber as I spoke of them. “If you would care to check for bananas?”

“Of course,” he agreed, and I sat on the bed he’d just vacated while he took his time inspecting the rooms.

I fell asleep, of course, within seconds, lulled by his nearness and the peaceful memories of this room. I woke to his arms around me, lifting me from his bed, and carrying me into the room I was meant to inhabit.

“I would let you stay if it wasn’t _clearly_ safer for you in the other room,” he murmured as he transferred me to the other, arguably smaller bed. He had moved it slightly in the room, to be less visible from the one barred window and more visible from the door to his room. He pulled the covers up to my chin and turned to leave, and I was too tired to think clearly. I stretched out one hand and caught his wrist, where normally the bracer was; tonight it was bare skin.

“Stay,” I said. I meant it as a request, but my voice was thick with sleep and the word came out indistinct.

“You know I can’t,” he whispered, working to disengage my fingers from his wrist.

“Not like... I’m not _Mipha_ ,” I muttered.

“No, I know, that’s not it. Zelda, please.”

He sounded half-panicked, and I dropped his wrist and immediately felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, I must be too tired to think straight, I did not mean to offend or-“

“Shush,” he whispered, and laid his now-freed hand to the side of my face, carefully tucking the ends of my braid back into place. “It’s not that, and you know it.”

“I know,” I agreed, feeling myself slipping back to sleep now that I knew I hadn’t permanently damaged anything with my sloppy, overtired overture. “I just... always want you to stay, and never say it.”

“Someday,” he said, as his hand ran over my hair; the word rattled in his throat like a promise. “But not tonight.”

I should have apologized. I should have said good night. I should have said _something_. But instead, I sighed and went back to sleep.

The next morning could have been brutally awkward. I awoke alone, just as the sun began to lighten the sky. I readied quickly and strode out to face the censure I so sadly deserved.

I found Link, sitting cross-legged on the floor at the door between our rooms, with four bunches of bananas piled on the floor in front of him, and several people visible in the next room over with mops and buckets, working furiously to clean the floor.

“What? What’s happened?”

“Apparently, someone decided to test the theory that I didn’t sleep,” Link drawled. “Luckily for us both, they'd cased the room and I knew to stay awake.”

My joke about bananas was suddenly less funny. On the other hand, the thought slipped into my head that the real reason Link had pulled away from me was the knowledge there were Yiga about. Great Goddesses, what would have happened had he not checked the room? “Dear Goddess, Yiga? Here?”

“Probably infiltrated the army. I’m still surprised you slept through it all. You sleep soundly, Princess.”

“Of course I do. If you wanted me awake, you’d wake me.”

There was something warm and unreadable in the look he shot me, and I smiled back in reply.

“We’re not staying for ceremony. We’re off as soon as you have a clear path to the door.”

That path took another ten minutes to generate, but we were still out of the Citadel before the sun was more than a hand’s width above the horizon, riding hard for the north and the Spring of Power. There was a broad open field around the Spring, and we let the horses graze freely when we went inside.

We stayed together as Link scouted out the Spring, as he was a bit put off from the apparent attack the night before. It was more open than the Spring of Courage, sitting in a bowl well beneath the ground level surrounding it. I wasn’t sure if the afternoon air was holding in the warmth better – the sun shining directly into the Spring – or if this Spring was just warmer, somehow. Either way, there was a palpable heat in the air that was a relief after the ordeal of the Spring of Courage.

There was less structure around this site, originally, so there were fewer ruins for me to try to hide behind for modesty’s sake as I changed. Link stood guard with his back to me, just outside the Spring, while I quickly stepped into the white dress I would wear into the water.

He took up the same stance on the steps at the front of the Spring once I waded in, facing the door in with his sword bared.

The water, too, was decidedly warmer here. The sun shine was more direct – less hindered than the Spring of Courage – but the actual Spring water seemed to be flowing out of the ground at a much higher temperature. We were close to Eldin, and Death Mountain, so perhaps there was a hot spring nearby that this was tempered by?

Or, perhaps, since Din was the spirit of fire, Her Spring would just contain some hidden flame that would keep it warm. Maybe, here, there would be heat on the water, rather than electricity, when there was energy present.

There was definitely no tingle to the water now. I walked with my palms skimming the surface and felt only water – warm, dead water. I knew, within two steps into the Spring, that I was wasting my time.

I waded forward regardless, facing the statue, and offering up my prayers. I wanted power, did I not? I wanted the power to seal away the darkness? There was reason for me to be here, even if I just had to continually insist it to myself.

I sought for serenity while I stood in the warm waters, but something kept me from going so deeply into the state that I lost all track of time. Time moved faster, surely, but I was aware of it, even if only peripherally. As twilight settled, the frustration built until I spoke aloud, to relieve the tension.

“I come seeking help regarding this power that has been handed down over time. Prayer will awaken my power to seal Ganon away...”

Was that true? I had seen my mother pray, but was that really what had awakened the power? Or had it been something else entirely, and the prayer was for a thankfulness I did not feel?

“Or so I’ve been told all my life,” I confessed to the statue of the Goddess. “And yet...”

I had gained so much by confessing my anxieties to Link. Could the same not work here, as well?

“Grandmother heard them – the voices from the spirit realm. And Mother said her own power would develop within me. But I don’t hear or feel anything! Father has told me time and time again, he _always_ says, ‘Quit wasting your time playing at being a scholar’!”

He says to stop being myself, stop being who I am, who I want to be.

I brought my fists down into the warm water of the Spring. “Curse you.” I wasn’t sure if the words were directed at Father or the Goddess, but at that moment I did not care.

“I’ve spent every day of my life dedicated to praying! I’ve pleaded to the spirits tied to the ancient gods, and still the holy powers have proven deaf to my devotion. Please, just _tell me_. What is it? What’s wrong with me?”

The grief and frustration stuck in my throat, forcing the last of my words out as a wail, and I clenched my teeth to hold back a sob. I would not cry, I would _not_.

Link was by my side within moments, sword sheathed over his shoulder, one hand between my shoulder blades on my back, urging me to come out of the Spring.

“How are you not freezing?” He asked, and I looked up to see his teeth chattering.

“The water is warm,” I answered, confused. His distress prompted me to move, and question the temperature discrepancy from dry land. I stripped quickly out of my dress, opting to put on my own clothes rather than Link’s, and met him by the fire that he had built up and now stood at with both his hands extended towards. His shiver was reduced, but I could see he was far colder than I felt.

“Truly, the water felt warm to me? I was wondering whether there was a secret hot spring somewhere deep beneath, or perhaps the water flowed here from Eldin.”

I stepped past him to stand on his left – leaving his right hand free for his sword, should ought come upon us in the night – and accepted the bowl of soup he handed me. We sat down together, beside the fire, on a pile of rubble he’d arranged to form a bit of a bench.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he murmured as I continued to work on my soup. He, of course, was finished before mine was really cool enough to eat. “Just the heat of the spring should tell you that; it was sucking the warmth out of me.”

“Then why? Why has my power not manifested?”

“Does it matter?”

“What? Yes!”

“But you don’t need it yet. What good is power that seals the darkness if there is not yet any darkness to seal?”

He had a point. He generally did. “My mother, and my grandmother, both had the power manifest, without a need for it. They felt _different_ once they had it. Grandmother spoke to spirits. Mother... might have, I’m not sure.”

Link took a bracing sort of breath, like he was about to put his head underwater. “How old were they when their power manifested?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“So it could be something that you grow into, rather than something that has to be forced, or proven? It’s a birthright, isn’t it? That would explain why your mother wouldn’t have left you any instructions.”

Oh, Goddess, what if he was right? What if all of this torment and doubt was for nothing? Not that it _mattered_ , because Father remained convinced that I needed to constantly train, and so train I must. And on the off chance he was right...?

Link seemed to see the conflict in me, and frowned for a minute at his hands as he clenched them into fists.

“It is not my place,” he said, sounding out each word carefully, “but I feel you want me to speak my mind-“

“I do,” I quickly encouraged. I let my soup bowl drift downward as I turned to watch whatever it was he was trying to verbalize. This was _precisely_ what I had always wanted from him, for him to _voice_ these thoughts to me, rather than bury them.

“Your mother... she was the Queen. The King’s wife. Your _mother_.”

I frowned, baffled. It wasn’t his place to speak the obvious? “Yes...?”

“So she... courted with your father? Married? Became pregnant? Bore a daughter?”

“Yes...?”

“Where did she find time for that, if she was devoting every spare moment to prayer?”

 _Oh_.

“And even if her power had manifested before she met your father, that only emphasizes the fact that _he doesn’t know_ what it took to spark that awakening. Either way, Zelda, he’s _wrong_. He is my King and my sovereign and the father of my... my _charge_ , but he is still a man, and he is capable of error.”

I put the soup bowl down, forgotten, and moved to sit closer to Link, so we were touching from hips-to-knees, and I cupped both hands over his left knee and let my head droop. After a moment, his arm wrapped around my back, and he cupped my shoulder and squeezed gently.

I didn’t know what he’d wanted to say instead of ’my charge’ and ultimately it didn’t matter. He was right, _right_ about my father, but ultimately that didn’t matter either.

“I must still do as he says. Even if he is wrong... there is nothing to lose by devoting myself to the Goddess in prayer.”

“Except yourself,” he shot back, and then went still. “Forgive me, I should not have-“

“Always speak your mind to me,” I insisted, putting pressure on his knee with both hands resting there. “Perhaps not in the Castle where Father could hear, but when it is just you and I? I respect and value your opinion, sir knight, and I know it is never formed hastily.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Finish your soup.”

I choked on the laugh but did as I was told. “I should know better than to leave food uneaten in your presence.”

“Yes. You should.”

He stood and began laying out spares clothes and blankets – which seemed to be new acquisitions, come to think on it – for me to sleep on, tucking it all back under one of the few overhangs in the mostly-open Spring. “As long as any rain stays light, you should be well enough,” he told me, once he had it all arranged to his liking.

I wasn’t eager to repeat my mistake from the night before, so I merely thanked him and laid down to sleep. He sat down right next to me, though, just far enough away from the fire to preserve some degree of night vision. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to; that was the thought that saw me off to sleep.

 

*

 

“I brought your silent princess seeds with me,” he said by way of greeting when I awoke the next morning. “There are a few places between here and the Castle where I think they might do well.”

“Have you been researching the best places to cultivate wild silent princess?” I didn’t bother to try to keep the fondness out of my tone.

The look he directed at me made me blush down to my toes. “Yes.”

 _Oh_. He wasn’t talking about just the flower. He was going to be the death of me, he really was.

“Where would you suggest we go?”

“There are two Great Fairy Fountains fairly close to our route, and a number of sheltered valleys and vales between here and Faron. We could take a few days, ride the long way back to the Castle again.”

“I love the way you think, sir knight.”

And so we did just that. We didn’t go up to the actual Great Fairy Fountains, since Link insisted they were generally inappropriate - the word he used was _handsy_ - and he’d had his fill of fairy molestations for one lifetime. Instead, we wandered through the grove around each fountain and planted a few of the precious seeds where they seemed most likely to flourish.

We rode all over Hateno, staying well clear of Mount Lanayru and the bitterly cold wind blowing down from its slopes, and then wound our way past the Dueling Peaks into Faron. We left the last of the seeds on a hillside overlooking lake Hylia, and I was surprised to feel melancholy when it was done. It was as if something had ended, rather than (hopefully) the lives of several dozen flowers having begun.

“I suppose we’ll have to just hope, and perhaps collect more seeds,” I sighed, as we turned our horses towards home.

“Or just do it again next year with the rest of the seeds I’ve hidden in your study.”

“You didn’t!” I gasped, and then immediately started laughing. Sweet Goddess, but he knew me so well.

“And don’t go tearing it apart looking for them. They’re hidden very well and for good reason.”

“I promise I will leave them be,” I agreed easily.

 

*

 

I avoided my Father upon returning to the Castle, and for his part he did not seek me out. Any questions I had regarding his continued stance on the way I was to spend my time were answered by a letter I found on the desk of my study, roughly a week after returning from the Spring.

It was terse, and unsigned, but unmistakably his handwriting. He informed me that there would be no ceremony recognizing my seventeenth birthday at the Temple of Time, but that instead I should plan to spend the day travelling to Mount Lanayru.

Legend told that the Hero of Time had been held in stasis at the Temple of Time until he was old enough to wield the Master Sword, when he came of age on his seventeenth birthday; it was done to protect him from Ganondorf the Thief finding him and turning him to nefarious purpose before he was old enough to defend himself. The Princess in that time had gone into hiding with the Sheikah, learning the martial arts of that people and becoming a combatant in the fight against evil rather than merely an advisor to the arcane, as was more common in the stories.

I’d always rather liked that version of the tale, and more than once wondered if that was where the concept of 17 as coming-of-age had started, since it didn’t seem to exist outside the traditions of the Royal family.

Regardless, I spent the weeks leading up to my birthday in quiet contemplation on my walkway.

Link spent them in annoyed contemplation in my study. He spent little time away from me, mostly because neither him nor his father had been given any official censure from the king, which did nothing to ease the tension between Link and the men of his father's command. It was handled as a family dispute, which apparently irked Link’s father to no end.

Instead of spending any time with the general populace of soldiers, Link’s time was divided between the Castle Town, where he apparently knew everyone, and the general area around my study. I found him on the roof one day, balanced perfectly on the peak; I never knew for sure where he would turn up, but he managed to keep moving even in such close quarters.

My dreams became haunted, as time went on. I tried to pass them off as simple nightmares, but one particular image became repetitive. After the fourth time of having the dream, I sat down to write of it.

 

_I had a dream last night. In a place consumed by darkness, a lone woman gazed at me, haloed by blinding light. I sensed she was... not of this world. I don’t know if she was a fairy or a goddess, but she was beautiful. Her lips spoke urgently, but her voice did not reach me. Would I have heard her if my power was awoken? Or was my dream simply a manifestation of my fears? I am sure I will know the answer soon, whether I wish to or not._

 

The morning before my birthday, I flagged Link down and asked for a reprieve.

“I would like to go for a ride. Will you join me?”

He didn’t so much agree as immediately spring into action. He was a whirlwind around me, getting things packed and the horses called up and the study shuttered in case of inclement weather while we were away.

We were out of the Castle, with the Castle Town quickly disappearing behind us, while the sun was still closer to dawn than noon. We jumped fences with impunity, fleeing south with as little dignity as we were willing to drum up.

Link was riding Epona again, the feisty stallion apparently having been requested to spread some of his feistiness at one of the stables in Necluda. Epona got along well with Royal, and the two of them were content to trot along side-by-side.

We ignored the road until we were nearly to the Great Plateau, and skirted west of the Forest of Time. We trotted along the great wall that had been built at the edge of the Plateau, and I couldn’t help the flash of bitterness, of _wrongness_ , at not going up to the Temple the next day. Had Link even seen it? I always assumed he’d been everywhere, but the Plateau was held separate for a reason – nobody lived up there except for the monks at the Eastern Abbey. There was likely little cause for him to have visited.

“Have you ever been up to the Temple of Time?” I asked as we followed along the road south of the Coliseum.

“Just for curiosity’s sake, once, when I was young,” he replied, with the air of a confession. “Saria and I climbed the walls one morning. It took forever, but we got there. She seemed convinced I would get sucked into some stasis, and I wanted to prove her wrong.”

“Well, she was half right,” I noted when he fell silent. “You definitely have the soul of the Hero.”

He shot me a bemused look. “I assume you’ve been there?”

“Not since my mother died. The royal family uses the Temple of Time for strictly ceremonial purposes. The next reason I would have to visit is my coming of age when I turn seventeen. Past that...? Weddings and funerals and some rare ceremonies.”

“Isn’t the coming of age ceremony... soon?”

“It should be, yes.”

He seemed to pick up on the undertone of my answer, and we rode along in silence for awhile longer. We crossed the Manhala bridge over the Regencia River and started up Safula Hill. I realized that Royal was growing restless, and immediately remembered what Link had said about horses picking up on the emotions of their riders.

I reached out and patted his neck, seeing him immediately calm.

“Be sure to take the time to soothe your mount,” I said, half to myself. “That’s the only way it will know how you truly feel.” I glanced over to see Link watching me, that light spark of pride in his eyes.

“Your advice was quite helpful. Thank you. This little one and I are getting along quite well now. At first, I wasn’t sure if I should outfit him with all the royal gear. I thought, _maybe he should have to earn it first_. But it works. He wears it like a true natural.”

Link was watching me with another bemused smile.

“I’m trying to be more empathetic,” I informed him. “Benefit of the doubt, you know?”

The bemused smile twisted more towards an open smile as he heard the implicit apology in my words.

“I’m glad Royal there can benefit from the abuse I suffered,” he teased.

“If you’re not going to let me apologize, you don’t get to taunt me about it, either,” I informed him coolly.

“Sure I do. Forgive, Princess, but never forget. I have very little I can tease you with, but for your acting like a... what word did you use?”

“Prat,” I supplied, succinctly. “I was a prat.”

“Right.”

My attempt to keep a straight face failed, and I laughed lightly as we continued up the road towards Sanidin Park.

It was a beautiful day, with the sunlight reflecting off the clouds, making the sky glow to give lie to the seeming lateness of the day. There were few people around, for such a beautiful day. Normally the park was full on a bright afternoon such as this; but if something had given us the space and our solitude, I would not begrudge it.

I swung off Royal and walked to the handrail at the edge of the little monument space.

“See that mountain?” I asked Link as I gazed to the north and east.

He made a noncommittal sort of hum, but there were half a dozen mountains I could be looking at.

“That’s Mount Lanayru,” I clarified, and he softly grunted an affirmative. Of course he had been there, he’d been everywhere. “It takes its name from the Goddess of Wisdom. Lanayru’s decree is very specific. It says, ‘No one is allowed, under the age of seventeen, for only the wise are permitted a place upon the mountain.’ I’ve prayed at the Spring of Courage, and at the Spring of Power, yet neither awoke anything inside me. But maybe up there... Perhaps the Spring of Wisdom, the final of the three, will be the one.”

Link was some distance behind me, keeping an eye on the road, the horses, the hillside, the weather _and_ the topic of conversation. But I never doubted I had as much of his attention as he could spare.

“To be honest... I have no real reason to think that will be the case. But there’s always the chance that the next moment will change everything.”

He stayed silent, waiting me out.

“Tomorrow is my seventeenth birthday.”

I turned and saw the understanding in his eyes, the perception of the injustice that explained why my coming of age was not being celebrated at the Temple of Time, as was tradition. His jaw shifted, and I took comfort in the words I knew he would not say.

“So then I shall go, and make my way up the mountain.”

“And I will go with you,” he said immediately. “And we will ask the other Champions to join us as well.”

“Oh?”

“It is your birthday, Princess,” he said, with the half-raised eyebrow and ghost of a smile that told me I was being foolish. “You are important to each of them, and they will wish to stand by you, regardless of what happens upon the mountain.”

“You mean for me to have something on hand to cheer me up, when the power does not come.”

“Or celebrate with you, and immediately carry the word to the four corners of the country, if it does.”

“That’s kind of you, thank you,” I answered.

“And regardless of what happens, you’re owed a celebration.”

I didn’t answer; I didn’t feel I needed to. He and I both were of the opinion that praying at the Springs was not the key to unlocking the power to seal away the darkness. But my father believed it enough that he was cancelling an age-old tradition in favor of my travelling to Mount Lanayru, and so I would go.

We rode back to the Castle in relative silence. Link excused himself as soon as I was inside the gate, to run down messengers to the four Champions, and probably bribe them excessively to make sure the word was delivered in a suitably short interval.

I made my way to my bedroom, not intending to eat, but thinking of seeing Urbosa the next day prompted me to call down for a small tray. I picked at it until I felt satisfied that I could say I’d eaten something, and then went to bed.

I slept ill, tossing and turning, and with flashing recurrences of the dream of the strange woman. I rose several hours before the dawn and sat at my writing desk.

I hadn’t written in my journal hardly at all in the last year. How different I was, from the person who had written the first entry, and yet... here I sat, wrestling the same problem. Ill at ease over Ganon, at odds with my father... Everything was different and nothing had changed.

 

_I turned seventeen today._

_That means this is the day I will finally be allowed to train at the Spring of Wisdom. When Link arrives, we will set out for Mount Lanayru. The other Champions will accompany us there._

_I have not seen my father since he scolded me. Things are too strained now... I will meet with him when I return._

 

I looked at the entry for awhile, trying to think of how to encompass the rest of my discomfort. It seemed to be _more_ this morning, than it had been before. I read the entry on the page before again, remembering flashes of the dream and the woman shouting what seemed almost to be words of caution at me.

I shook my head and wrote an addendum to the entry.

 

_Actually, I’ve had a horrible feeling ever since that weird dream. No one would believe a failure of a princess, but... Right now, for no particular reason, I am filled with a strange and terrible certainty that something awful is about to happen._

 

I was probably being overdramatic and fatalistic, but just writing the words seemed to solidify the feeling. I capped my ink well, cared for my pen, and prepared for my day. It would take all day to arrive at Mount Lanayru, and we would climb to the summit where the Spring of Wisdom sat on the morning after.

I mentally offered a prayer to the Goddess that everything would be different when I next stood in Hyrule Castle, and then left my room to meet Link in the courtyard below.


	11. I See Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory 15 (Return of Calamity Ganon), Memory 16 (Despair) and Memory 17 (Zelda's Awakening)
> 
> Also? This is going to hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a lot of time wondering why these memories happened where they did. In particular, 16 and 17. Why did Link & Zelda cut across that part of Central Hyrule on foot? Why were they in Fort Hateno at the end? Once I had a theory for that, I started writing, and this is where we ended up. 
> 
> Title is in reference to the Ed Sheeran song for LotR.

There was no direct route to Mount Lanayru, for which I think the Sheikah were both responsible and pleased. The slopes of Sahasra were difficult to traverse in the best of times, and the road to Kakariko from there was rumored to be heavily guarded, with traps set to slay the unwanted or even collapse the cliffs around the path entirely. South of there stood the Pillars of Levia, which rose to meet the Dueling Peaks beyond. The only safe route towards the district called Necluda was through the cleft that gives the mountains their name. The Squabble River ran naturally from east to west through the middle, else I would happily agree with the contention that the Dueling Peaks were split by a Dragon eager for a shortcut through.

We rode south out of the Castle to East Post, crossed the Hylia River just south of its junction with the Squabble, and then followed the smaller river east through the mountains to where it collected in the Ash Swamp after forming from the inexorable drift of Glaciers off Mount Lanayru.

Here, again, there was limited access. To reach the village of the Sheikah, one had to travel north across the easily defensible Kakariko Bridge. Travel to Hateno Village was accomplished only by travelling through Fort Hateno, which crouched in the thin space between the Cliffs of Quince and the Ash Swamp. To reach Mount Lanayru without climbing up sheer cliffs required one to travel through Kakariko Village, where the Lanaryu Road had its westernmost point just north of the village.

I wondered, as we made the trek, if Kakariko as the gatekeeper for the Spring of Wisdom had been intentional. Which came first, the position of the village, or the royal family’s relationship with the Sheikah? It was like the cuccoo and the egg, but of political expedience.

The Lanayru Promenade was a beautiful stretch of ancient stonework, tirelessly maintained by a small army of masons and engineers. We made camp at the far end of the Promenade, near to a great marble portal called the East Gate. Mipha and Daruk were waiting for us when Link and I arrived, and Revali flew in mere minutes later.

“Only beat me by seconds,” he insisted as he landed.

“Where have I heard that before?” Link mused aloud.

I had to work to stifle a laugh, as the two of them _glared_ at each other.

Funny, how the one I originally agreed with was now the one I found dead wrong. What a difference a year makes!

Urbosa arrived perhaps an hour after Revali, having left her horse in Kakariko as Link and I had and finishing the voyage on foot.

“How can you breathe in this? I feel like I’m drowning,” she demanded as she strode into our circle of firelight and started passing around chilled flasks. “In honor of your birthday, Princess: Noble Pursuit.”

Mipha immediately handed it back, advising that alcohol was particularly unsafe for Zora consumption. Daruk threw his back with a shiver, claiming it was the first time he’d ever actually felt cold, but no further effects. Revali sipped his, savoring it for the fine treat it was, while Link and Urbosa preformed this... routine... that involved rhythmically knocking their flasks together, punching each other with their free hands, and tapping the glass to their knees before tossing the drinks back almost as easily as Daruk had.

For what it was worth, I watched everyone else, and merely enjoyed the moment.

“Go ahead, Princess, it’s not every day you become an adult in the eyes of both men and gods.”

I smiled at Urbosa, and lifted the flask. “I considered proposing a toast, but since I’m the only one with a drink-“

“Oh, you think I only brought enough for one each?” She dug into a heavy looking pack and pulled out a small block of ice with holes drilled into it; each hole was filled with a flask. Mipha’s was handed to Daruk, while Link and Revali each took a second from Urbosa. “Let’s hear your toast, Princess.”

I had to smile at Link, for making this happen. Once again, he was right; this was precisely what I needed. He matched my smile and lifted his Noble Pursuit in a playful salute.

“To dear friends, a common cause, and finding everything we are looking for.”

A little cheer went up as the flasks were lifted – Mipha raised a water skin – and everyone took a drink.

It was cold – chillingly cold – and a shiver drove up goosebumps along my arms even as it hit bottom and a little pit of fire blossomed to life. It left a bit of a burn at the back of my throat, and an immediate languor to my limbs. It was an interesting experience, to be sure, but not one I felt compelled to repeat. Especially given the rumors than over-indulgence led to illness in the long term, and many embarrassing stories in the short; I had a hard enough time monitoring my actions around Link when I was _sober_. I shuddered to think of the fool I could make of myself when drunk.

The little amount I had was more than enough, and soon I was smiling and laughing along with the rest of them.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I laughed at one point, when Daruk mentioned Link being literally on fire. “I don’t know that story.”

“You don’t know... _you never heard that story?”_ Daruk gasped, outraged. “The little guy never told you how he and I met?”

I shook my head. “I have gotten precious few stories out of sir knight. I know how he met Mipha, and a bit about how he met Revali, but nothing else of his history.”

And so began the deluge. Link had made his way to Goron City from the city of the Zora before he turned ten, and hadn’t yet learned how to manage the elixirs that would keep him safe in the hottest parts of the mountain. Apparently, he ran into Goron City _completely aflame_ , did a full circle in the middle of town, darted into the general store, said his last elixir had just run out, and could he please buy another one _right now please_. Daruk had immediately offered to pay for the elixir, just to speed up the transaction and keep the little guy alive, but Link had a wallet full of rupees and had even brought a sack of rocks from his home in Faron. Such exotic cuisine had immediately endeared him to Daruk, who had promised to keep _the little guy_ from lighting on fire again.

Urbosa, I learned, had been the city guard responsible for keeping Link out of Gerudo Town. After finding him no less than three dozen times, she finally sat down with him outside the gates and demanded to know why he kept sneaking in. He’d heard about a hidden shop in town that sold luminous clothing, and he’d figured out where the shop _was_ , he just hadn’t yet figured out how to get _in_. Once Urbosa had learned a bit about him, she’d stuck him in a dress and pretended he was a foundling. Eventually the whole town was in on the secret, but since the Chief was enamored of the little voe with the tenacity of the Molduga, they turned a blind eye to his transgressions for as long as he kept up appearances.

Revali had a tale about how abysmally Link had failed at the flight range after stumbling upon Vah Medoh, but the way Link laughed as he protested made me wonder how much of it was true.

Mipha kept quiet, much to my surprise. When Urbosa prompted her to pitch in, she demurred, saying, “It seems I’ve told all my stories about Link. I spoke of him too freely as children, I have nothing new to speak of now.”

“You can tell them how Sidon threw you off the Eastern Reservoir Dam,” Link suggested.

MIpha reared back, shocked at the suggestion, but Urbosa and Revali _ran_ with it, until the entire comedy of errors was played out. Sidon had been an infant at the time, scarcely able to walk, and had somehow gotten a hold of a shock arrow. Mipha had been tasked with stealing it away before he killed himself or anyone else, and the end result was a nasty shock and a drop off the top of the dam.

“Which is why I finally took up healing as a profession. The next time Sidon got his little mitts on a shock arrow, he could just _keep it_ , and I would wait and heal him when he’d knocked himself out.”

My face was wet, and I realized I had laughed until my ribs hurt and my eyes watered.

“I have... I have never had an evening like this before. I... I must thank you, all of you, for doing what you could to make my birthday so special.”

“It was our honor, Princess,” Mipha immediately answered. “And you should sleep before climbing the mountain tomorrow. I, as the sober Champion, will keep the first watch.” She turned and pointed one webbed finger at Link’s face. “And _you_ will _sleep.”_

Urbosa and I both laughed at his expense, but he did as he was told. He laid down beside me, and somehow as we both turned about to get comfortable, his back came to be pressed against me, the tips of his ears brushing mine.

I did not know it at the time, but it was the last night any of us would remember fondly.

 

*

 

I awoke in the faint light that precedes dawn in the mountains, to the sound of Urbosa whispering my name in my ear. Link was already moving about, of course, but the others – except for Urbosa, who had taken the final watch – were still deeply asleep.

“Go, before they wake,” she counseled, holding up a blanket so I could change into my dress. “You’ve been doing this long enough, you’ll know immediately whether it’s worth your time. We’ll have Revali fly up to watch for your return, and we’ll wait for you right here at the Gate.”

“Thank you, Urbosa,” I managed, as she pushed a series of cold-resisting elixirs into my hands.

“I’m sure your appointed knight over there is completely prepared to keep you warm, but if I’m staying down here I don’t need them. They’re strong enough for my thin blood, they should suit you just fine, even in that wisp of a dress.”

“Thank you, Urbosa,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

She pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Go on, now. Scoot.”

I scurried off, to catch up to Link who was already a short distance away. He extended one hand, to help me up over the first rise, and I took it without hesitation; it wasn’t until he dropped it and waved an incredibly rude gesture in Urbosa’s direction that I realized the other Champions might read something into the casual contact.

Lucky for me, it was only Urbosa. Goddess protect me had it been Revali.

The walk up Mount Lanayru was deceptively simple. There was a broad avenue that wound all the way around the mountain, lazily depositing travelers in the Spring a short distance below the peak. We completed the hike up in a matter of hours, reaching the Spring of Wisdom before the sun had cleared the mountains to shine onto the Promenade below.

I did not hesitate, and stepped directly into the Spring.

A trillion ice crystals danced into the air as my skin touched water, and I allowed myself to immediately feel relief.

This was it. This was the moment.

 _Greetings, Princess Zelda,_ the words forming in my head rather than reaching my ears. _You are welcome in this place, on this day of days_.

“Thank you,” I whispered, as I approached the statue.

_The time of your trial is nigh. Are you prepared?_

“That is why I have come to you. I have spent my life in prayer, sending up my devotions, and I have come to ask to be granted the sacred power that can seal away the darkness.”

 _You were born with this power, Princess,_ the crystalline voice seeming... curious? surprised, maybe. _It is not for anyone to give_.

“Then tell me how to use it. I was told it would awaken in me, but my mother... I have had no teacher, and I-“

 _You are forever welcomed upon Mount Lanayru, Princess Zelda,_ the voice affirmed. _But your request is akin to teaching the wind to blow, the sun to shine. The power is already yours, chosen of Nayru. It flows through you as surely as your breath and blood. You have only to use it_.

And then, the crystals shattered, evaporating instantly into the air, and the presence was gone.

“No!” I cried, flailing at the water. “No, you can not leave it at that! You must... you must tell me, _please_. Please, please, _please tell me how_.”

I collapsed in the pool, devastated beyond the ability to stand, and my head only just broke the surface before Link was in the water, arms around me, drawing me to safety.

“Leave me,” I begged, weakly. “My whole life is a lie, I am a failure, I have done nothing... nothing.”

He refused with a single, clipped _no_ , and swung me over his shoulder. He carried me a short distance from the Spring and lit a fire, so that I could dry out before beginning the long, cold walk down the mountain. I was numb as I sat there, holding my hands out to the fire more out of a sense of obligation to Link than any ability or desire to feel warm. My hair dried quickly, and I stood without a word to leave this place.

I had wasted years of my life. There was no power to unlock. There was no power in prayer. Whatever it was that would seal the darkness, it was a power inborn that I would apparently just _use_ , like instinct. Mother hadn’t taught me because there was nothing to teach.

How could I go back to the Castle? How could I sit in daily devotions, now that I knew they were nothing more than the conceit of an ignorant man, too stubborn to ever admit he was wrong? When the true problem was the lack of a power source for the shrines and the Guardians, the missing columns, the missing towers... how could I sit in my study and pretend that my devotions were the proper solution to Hyrule’s need?

And yet I could not research elsewhere. Robbie and Purah would accept me with open arms, but father would seek me out, could punish the researchers for what he would surely perceive as coddling me. Researching on the move was impossible; I needed books, I needed time to sit and read and study and decipher. I could not do that if Link and I were on the run from the king.

And Link would definitely run with me. I glanced over my shoulder to see him there, once more three paces behind, following in my wake with naked worry painted across his face. He’d heard what I had said, he could guess at the other side of the conversation, particularly since it meshed so well with his own theory. He had been right; right, where everyone else had been wrong. Was there any other doubt that he was the person I needed beside me always? Even now, when Revali or even Urbosa would say _I told you so_ , Link’s only concern was for my welfare.

I turned my eyes back to the ancient stones beneath my feet, and focused on a rough bit of road, but my thoughts quickly drifted back to the revelation at the Spring.

What had happened to allow my mother to use the power? Ganon had not emerged, so it was not dependent upon his presence. My grandmother passed but a few weeks before Mother, of the same bleeding cough, so it was not something to happen when her predecessor had died. Was it something that just happened, organically, as she aged? Or did she use it once at a moment of great need and forever after have it hover at her fingertips, since she then knew how to draw it forth? If it was the first, did I have time enough for it to mature before Ganon awoke? And if it was the second, why didn’t she at least tell me the story of the day her power awoke? Or tell father? Tell _someone_?

_Why will no one simply tell me what I am supposed to do?_

Suddenly, we were on flat ground and walking towards the four Champions who had waited for us at the East Gate. They could see it on my face, if not Link’s; a look they had to be all well acquainted with, from me.

Failure.

But this time, it wasn’t just of the moment. It was the failure of a lifetime.

What had we lost by not uncovering everything about the Divine Beasts? The Sheikah Slate was surely something more than a camera, given the Guidance stones had been designed around it. And the columns, full of Guardians! If they were what provided the power to the Shrines, what had we lost – what had _Link_ lost – by not being able to train as was intended?

 _The power to oppose it lies dormant beneath the ground_.

Goddess protect us, what would be the cost of this failure?

“Well? Don’t keep us in suspense,” Daruk said as I drew near. His face was painted with concern, but still he gave me the benefit of the doubt. Bless him. “How’d everything go up there on the mountain?”

How could I possibly put this into words? If I said the Goddess spoke to me, their hopes would be raised before being cruelly dashed. All I could do was shake my head. It was true enough; my power had not been awoken in the Spring.

“So you didn’t feel anything?” Revali pressed. The bird was cunning. Obviously _something_ had happened. “No power at all?”

I managed to look him briefly in the eye before turning my gaze back to the stones beneath my feet. “I’m sorry, no.”

Urbosa, as always, saw straight to the truth. “Then let’s move on. You’ve done all you could. Feeling sorry for yourself won’t be of any help.”

Oh, and I was. I was wallowing in sorrow, it was true.

“After all,” she concluded, “it’s not like your last shot was up there on Mount Lanayru. Anything could finally spark the power to seal Ganon away. We just have to keep looking for that... thing.”

Daruk, teeth bared in a nearly crazed rictus as he wavered between a smile of encouragement and the far more natural frown of concern, nodded eagerly along with Urbosa’s words. Even Revali gave a nod.

“That’s kind of you,” I answered. “Thank you.”

“If I may,” Mipha said, hesitantly. I glanced up and saw on her face the expression I felt like I’d been looking for my whole life. _Tentative offer of assistance_ , it was. “I thought you... Well. I’m not sure how to put this into words. I’m actually quite embarrassed to say it.”

She glanced at Link, over my shoulder, and then nodded slightly to herself. “But I was thinking about what I do when I’m healing.”

Oh damn it all, of _course_ Mipha would have insight. She used magic! Hadn’t I oft wondered if mine would look anything at all like hers, when the power finally emerged? We had been joined together when we lost our mothers, she could have-

“You know, what usually goes through my mind...” she said, in that soft and slow way of hers. “It helps when I think... when I think about...”

Whatever she thought about was thrust out of all of our minds as an explosion echoed down the Promenade from the west, followed by a violent shaking of the earth that had all of us struggling to keep our feet. I felt Link’s hand on the small of my back as I started to topple over, and I was quickly set to rights. Revali turned west, crouched, and then generated the powerful updraft that was his trademark, launching himself into the sky.

We watched, breathless, as he flew up to see the source of the eruption.

I hoped, desperately hoped, that it was Death Mountain. Or some horrible catastrophe in Robbie’s shop. Anything but what I knew, in the depths of my heart, it to truly be.

As Revali glided swiftly back to us, the truth was plain upon his face.

“It’s here,” Urbosa announced, in the silence before Revali’s taloned feet touched land.

“This is it, then,” Durok agreed.

“Are you sure?” Mipha gasped.

“Positive,” Revali told her.

“It’s awake.” The dread forced the words from my lips. “Ganon!” The cloud of black smoke and malevolent red light welled out of the west, visible even from this distance. Already, he had spread so far...

...and the power did not come. Seeing this manifestation of Malice did nothing to stir the power in my chest.

It was all I could do to keep the panic at bay.

“Let’s stop wasting time!” Daruk turned to the rest of us and took charge. “We’re going to need everything we got to take that thing down! Now, Champions! To your Divine Beasts! Show that swirling swine who’s boss!”

He turned so he was calling out orders directly over my head, and yet I could still only barely hear him through the surge of blood past my ears and the desperate pounding of my heart.

“Link will need to meet Ganon head-on when we attack! This needs to be a unified assault!”

Oh, sweet Goddess, he was right. Link would go running straight at the darkness. Alone, if need be.

“Little guy! You get to Hyrule Castle. You can count on us for support, but it’s up to you to pound Ganon into oblivion!”

Urbosa was behind me, then, her hands on my shoulders, still bared by the white dress I’d wasted nine years of my life keeping clean. “Come,” she said, softly. “We should go. We need to get you someplace safe.”

Safe? _Safe_? Safe from a cloud of Malice? Where was _safe_?

And if Link was running right at Ganon, then _that was where I was supposed to be_. It was the Hero and the Princess, working together, that would seal Ganon away.

“No,” I decided, pushing away from her to face Daruk and reclaim command of my Champions. “I am not a child anymore! I may not be much use on the battlefield, but there must... there _must_ be something I can do to help!”

Daruk made that strange half-smile half-frown and reached up to rub his neck awkwardly.

“She comes with me,” Link said, from behind Urbosa.

Everyone turned to face him, although I finished the turn a second after everyone else.

He had eyes only for me. As I felt our gazes lock, the rest of the Champions faded slightly from my vision. It was just him and I; nothing else mattered.

“Protecting the Princess is _my_ job. I’ve managed it so far, and now is not the time for changes to the plan.”

“He’s right,” I said, and felt attention swivel back to me. Neither Link nor I moved. “I didn’t feel anything on the Mountain, but I did get confirmation that the power resides in me. I will go with Link, and we will find a way to do our part." When there seemed to be no argument, I pulled my eyes from Link's and looked first to the Rito. "Revali, can you carry Urbosa?”

Urbosa looked offended, but Revali immediately nodded. “Of course.”

“Get her to Naboris, she has the longest distance to travel afoot. Daruk, you will take the next longest, _get moving now_. Lock on to the sanctum in the Castle and wait for something corporeal to show itself, we cannot fight the smoke.”

Daruk nodded, rolled into a ball, and immediately bounded away. Revali thrust himself skyward on another wind gust, gaining altitude before turning to swoop down and grab Urbosa.

She turned to run in the direction he was flying, to give him a head start, with her arms out for him to grab. “You make sure those damn Sheikah mind my horse!” she shouted, and then Revali had her and they were disappearing rapidly into the sky, circling south to keep distance between themselves and the castle.

“Mipha-“

“I know.” She stepped to me, throwing her arms around me, and I returned the hug gratefully. “I think of helping, of _protecting_ those I hold dear,” she whispered. “There is nothing more powerful than defense of those you love. I hope that helps.”

She stepped away before I could answer, and kissed Link softly on the cheek. “Remember what I said on Vah Ruta; I meant it. No matter where you are, or the severity of the wound,” she told him, and then turned and dashed out of the valley, climbing quickly north where I was sure she would dive directly into Lanayru Bay.

And then we were alone.

“Let’s go end this, Princess,” Link said into the sudden silence.

“I am afraid,” I blurted out, stepping towards him with my heart in my throat. “I am not prepared, there is too much left undone-“

“Then, as Revali says, we wing it,” he countered, and put out his hand. "There is nothing coming that we cannot handle."

“I could not do this without you,” I whispered, and took his hand.

“Good thing you don’t have to,” he replied, and then we were off at a dead run.

I kept up with him. I’m not sure if it was the Noble Pursuit the night before or the pure panic lighting a fire in my heart, but I kept pace with him. We raced down the Promenade, through the West Gate, and then into the ravine that would eventually lead to the Great Fairy Fountain above Kakariko Village.

As we came into town, a rumble of thunder in the distance threatened rain.

“Quickly!” Impa called. “Here, come here! Twenty minutes of your time now can save you six hours of running.”

“I like the sound of that,” I admitted, as Link nodded and we both ran to where Impa was waving to us from the door of the largest house in town.

“The Grandmother has died, I am the elder now,” she told us as we darted in.

“Isn’t Purah older?” Link asked as he fished around in his packs.

Impa shrugged. "In years only. Her mind is trapped in adolescence."

As she spoke, Link pulled out an elixir and passed it to me. “You’ll run out of stamina soon, when the adrenaline runs off, and you’ll need that.”

“We've already sent a crew to collapse the road up Sahasra; you should avoid it, even if it appears clear. It was the Grandmother's last wish, and we will honor it - it's nothing personal. We'll leave the bridge open unless circumstances become truly dire. The walkway around the Lantern Lake can get you above the village. We are hanging ropes even now for you to rappel down the cliff face west of Telta Lake. The Eagus and Horwell bridges would be all that stands between you and the Calamity from there.”

“That all sounds reasonable. Congratulations on the promotion,” Link said, clapping Impa on the shoulder. “The bed you slept on in Akkala was soft as snowquill, so I know you’re a damn liar, but I forgive you for that, since you're giving us this shortcut.”

Impa laughed and slapped him – hard – on the back. “Classic Link. About to face the fight of his life and making sure he reignites old grudges on the way.”

“That’s me,” he agreed, and tossed the last of the gear from his pack onto a pile in the corner of the room. He settled the – noticably smaller – pack back onto his hip and bounced a bit, checking the weight. He settled the Master Sword on his back and I noticed him shrugging a Hylian shield into place over it; I’d never seen it before, but I had long since given up hope of understanding how he got such things to fit in his packs. He bounced a couple times, and then nodded. “Watch my stuff.”

I was still reeling from shock, and he seemed almost _avid_. “How are you so- so-“

“We were born for this, Princess,” he said, putting out his hand to me. I took it without a second thought. “Every fiber of your being was created _specifically for this_. Every trial and every action of your life, of every life before now, has brought you to this precise moment. There is no one better suited for this task anywhere, in all of time. Just you. You cannot fail. You must only be yourself.”

“I don’t know who I am,” I answered.

He winked. “Let’s go find out, shall we?”

I loved him. Oh, Goddess, I loved him. The worst moment of my life, and there I stood, staring in his perfect blue eyes, and having every self-doubt I had struggled with my whole life pushed aside. I could do anything, with this man by my side. I could do _this_.

“I’ll show you to the ropes, then,” Impa said, with a mischievous glint to her eye.

We followed Impa up a series of walkways that led from the Elder's house - her house, now - around the small lake at the source of the spring that supplied the village. At the very top there was a gap between two great stone pillars that afforded a perfect view of Hyrule Castle. At the moment, the Castle was completely concealed by a writhing cloud of darkness. We got all the way to the edge of the cliff before Link realized the problem with our plan.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still in the dress,” he groaned, clapping a hand his face as I felt my jaw drop. “Impa, she can’t rappel in a dress, she’ll lose all the skin off her leg.”

“You’ll have to carry her down, then,” Impa replied, nonplussed. "It will be faster than teaching her to rappel, besides."

“Good call,” Link agreed, and then turned to me.

I hauled off and slapped him across the face.

He lurched a step back and stared at me, shocked.

“Why did you wait until _now_ to use that word? That is a _wonderful word_. I could have _used that_!”

He started to laugh, then; weakly at first, and then harder, until he was leaning on Impa, who was _also_ laughing. From where I stood, Ganon swirled maliciously directly behind them, but he was inconsequential in this moment.

This was pure joy in the face of Calamity, mortality, and the possible loss of everything we loved.

It was life, summed up in one perfect, impossible moment.

I felt a sudden calmness settle into my chest. This was what Link felt; this  _inevitability_ that things must be this way, and that I had fought this battle countless times before. This body I walked about in was a rank amateur, but my soul was the premier authority in the world. 

We could  _do this_. 

Link said something to Impa that my mind refused to register, and she gave him some words of encouragement that I also didn’t hear. He had wrapped ropes around himself in a way that my eyes didn’t follow, and then held out his arms to me.

“Forgive the impropriety, Princess, but you’re going to have to wrap your legs around my waist and your arms around my chest or shoulders, so I can work the ropes.”

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Impa chortled, and then with another clap to Link’s shoulder, she and the rest of the Sheikah were gone.

I couldn’t help it; I hesitated. “How-“

“Come here.”

He put out both hands and I stepped immediately into his arms. He wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted, gently, and I awkwardly sat on his hips, wrapping my legs around his waist. I leaned forward, put my head on his shoulder, and wrapped my arms upward, so my elbows were on his ribs, my forearms upon his shoulder blades, so my hands could clasp the top of either shoulder.

He quickly tied another rope around our waists, cinching us together.

“Don’t let go,” he whispered into my ear, and then _threw himself off the cliff_.

I screamed, I freely admit I screamed. We swung out wide and crashed into the rock with a spine-jarring impact that cut off my scream.

“Did you bite your tongue?”

“No,” I managed.

“Good.” And he pushed himself off the wall and we _plummeted_ down the cliff again. This time I managed to limit myself to just an undignified squeak, but something about feeling his laugh beneath my palms, his breath against my ear, the long line of his body against mine...

...no. No, I didn’t mind the feeling of falling. I stayed silent for the remainder of the descent, focused instead on committing to memory the way it felt to have my body wrapped around his.

We landed on the ground with a damp sort of thud and then he was untying us and lifting me off him to set me gently on my feet. He kicked free of the ropes and then carefully tied the various bits together before tugging, hard, three times. A second passed and then the ropes shot up the side of the cliff, being pulled up by the Sheikah at the top. We were alone on a long, grassy slope, with two bridges us and Hyrule Field between us and our fate.

He turned to face me, and whatever was on my face made him suddenly smile in a way I had never seen before. He was happy. Here, in this chaos, this complete madness, he was _happy,_ happier than I had ever seen him.

Goddess save us, we were idiots in love.

I had to tell him.

I opened my mouth, knowing there was absolutely no time like the present, when the skies opened up and the rain poured down.

“Link!” I said, heedless of the rain. “Link, I-“

 _I’m so sorry, Zelda_.

The thought drove all others from my head, and whelmed me to my knees. It was a _voice in my head_ , like had happened at the Spring of Wisdom. But the voice was my-

-the voice was my-

 _Forgive me, my daughter. I have failed you. I beg of you: avenge me. Save Hyrule_.

And then he was gone.

“No!” I wailed.

“Zelda, what? What’s happened?”

“I can hear spirits,” I admitted, fighting to take a breath against the bitter pain in my lungs. “Oh, Link, I can hear spirits, and the first spirit I have heard is _my father_. My father is dead. The Castle is lost.”

Link dropped to one knee beside me, and I slumped over so my head was rested against his leg.

“Princess,” he whispered, as his hands settled on my shoulders. “If your father is dead, then mine is as well. We must not stop now. We can mourn them when it is over.”

He was right. _He was right_. I probably would not have responded to any entreaty but that one, but he shared my grief; he too had lost both father and sovereign, even if his was two people rather than one. He likely felt the same sudden regret of things left unsaid and the yawning loneliness of becoming an orphan.

He pushed to his feet and put out a hand to me. I took it, and he dragged me up. He pressed the elixir back into my hands; I didn’t remember dropping it. “Take it. You need it now.”

I nodded, put the glass to my lips, and drank of Goddess-knows-what. Liquefied lizard, roasted beetle, and Hinox gut, perhaps. I drank, handed him the empty flask – to have him toss it aside – and then took his hand and started once more to run.

We had come down out of the hills and just caught sight of the Eagus bridge when Mipha fell.

_No! No, Zelda, I am so sorry. It is Ganon, he has cast some spell upon Ruta. I have lost control of her! There is a beast in her halls and it has ended me. My soul has been tethered to the controls, I am trapped! Zelda, please, care well for my Link, for I cannot hold to my promise to heal him._

“NO!” I howled, stumbling to a stop, staggering Link. “No, please, Goddess, no, not Mipha. _Not Mipha_.”

“Mipha?” Link repeated, dazed. “How? Did she not make it to Vah Ruta? Did she-“

 _Saboteur!_ Urbosa’s spirit raged in my mind, and I was whelmed once more to my knees. _He has cast aspects of himself into the Divine Beasts! He has taken control of Naboris through me. I was taken by surprise, Princess, I have failed you. Forgive me!_

I was staring blindly through Link as he watched me in horror, and I realized I was keening wordlessly. I cut off the sound with a great effort, and sagged against him.

“And Urbosa. They’re both... Ganon has done something to the Divine Beasts, sent aspects of himself to corrupt them and turn them against us.”

“We have to hurry!” He hissed, urging me to my feet. “If we’ve lost Urbosa and Mipha-“ his voice broke on their names, and the sorrow hit me so hard I gagged from it “-then we’re down two Divine Beasts, as well. It will take longer for us to slay him, and the longer we wait the more lives are lost. We must _hurry,_ Zelda.”

He was right! He was right, he was always right. I pushed to my feet and stumbled a few steps before once more catching my stride. I could not match his pace, but he slowed slightly for me and we continued on, hand-in-hand through the raging downpour.

We made it across the Horwell Bridge before Revali fell.

 _Princess!_ his voice echoed in my stunned-silent mind. _Princess, we are lost! I am slain, Medoh is taken, tainted! Already she turns away from the battle!_

“Revali, no,” I gasped, and Link stumbled a step. “No, no, no....”

“Faster, and we might yet save Daruk!” Link urged, and I felt my strength surge once more.

We ran north from the bridge, thinking to enter the Castle from a passage under the Cathedral, and confront Ganon in the Sanctum, on ground of our choosing. But as we ran along the river, we saw the Guardians, and the wind was knocked out of me once more.

They were glowing red, the same malevolent red that swirled above us in the black cloud that was Calamity Ganon. They shot at everything that moved, and in this moment, what was moving were the hundreds of people from the Castle and the Castle town, fleeing to the south, seeking safety.

They were being mowed down, like nothing more than grass.

Link grabbed me and dragged me down into the tall grass alongside the riverbank, rolling over me to hide the gleaming white of my dress. He held his weight on his knees and elbows, but his ear was even with my eyes as he turned his head to watch the Guardians in their hunt.

I heard the screams, then. I had been deafened by the rain and the blood pulsing past my ears, but the screams pierced the numbness around my heart as I lay in the silence and prayed to be passed over.

 _Princess,_ Daruk’s spirit whispered, and my last hope shattered. _Princess, there is a Beast haunting the halls of Vah Rudania. It has settled into the controls, and it has turned my Divine Beast against us. I fought to the last, and I very nearly had him, I was so close... it’s all up to you, now. You, and the little guy. We believe in you_.

Link was moving again, pulling me into a crouch to sneak up the river bank into a stand of trees. I followed as best as I was able, but I had no heart left in me.

We had failed.

We reached the relative safety of the trees, hidden from the Guardians by the thick trunks as well as the heavy rains. Link stood upright and broke into a run. I tried to match his pace - I did, I really did - but I had nothing left to give.

My hands were slick with mud that covered half my dress, coated the skin of my neck and arms, and when I lost my grip on Link’s hand I lost my handle on everything else, as well.

I collapsed into the mud and landed on my hands and knees, my head bowed against the rain.

Link’s footsteps stopped. Turned. Came back.  I didn't look up, but I knew he was just out of my line of sight, a few paces away.

“How...” I started, but I had not yet caught my breath. I fought for air enough to speak as Link sheathed his sword over his shoulder and moved to kneel before me, putting us back on level.

“How did it come to this? The Divine Beasts. The Guardians. They’ve all turned against us. It was... it was Calamity Ganon. It turned them all against us!” My hands were clenched into fists in the mud, and I used them to push myself up straighter, and turn my face more towards Link. He was as muddy and miserable as I, blinking wearily against a steady flow of rain in his face.

“And _everyone_ ,” I told him, as I knew he suspected but he had to _know_ , I had to _tell him_ , “Mipha, Urbosa, Revali and Daruk... they’re all trapped inside those things.”

There was no censure in his eyes, but the despair welled up and there was no stopping it any longer. The tears sprang forth and I buried my face in my muddy hands.

”It’s all my fault! Our only hope for defeating Ganon is lost because I couldn’t harness this cursed power! Everything... Everything I’ve done up until now... It was all for nothing.”

I yanked my hands down, and glared at him, glared through him, spat my anger and frustration out in a endless fountain of loss. “I really am just a failure! All my friends. The entire kingdom. My father most of all. I tried, and I failed them all. I’ve left them all to die.”

I was the Princess of Hyrule. I was strong in the face of adversity. I was unbowed beneath the threat of evil. And I had absolutely nothing left to give. I pitched forward and gave into the sobs I had held back my entire life, starting with the day my mother died ten long lonely years before.

I fell forward into Link’s arms.

He pressed me against his shoulder, kneeling in the rain, and held me while I wept.

I don’t know how long we sat there, in the rain and the mud, with the distant sounds of malignant Guardians passing around our little haven in the trees. The Sheikah slate had come loose from my belt, and I felt Link fumble with it for a moment and then slide it back into place. Then, with a couple of balance shifts and one arm moving downward, he lifted me into the air and carried me away from the Castle.

We had to go on. We had to fight Ganon. We, alone, must win this battle. And we were _so alone_. And I should have told Link to stop, told him to turn and take us back towards the Castle, force me onto my feet and make me _face this_. But I didn’t. I surrendered to whatever he thought was best.

He held me close to his chest, and he ran.

He followed the riverbank down, trusting to the darkness and the rain and the sounds of the river to keep us hidden as we fled south. We crossed the Hylia river again at the Horwell Bridge, and used the woods around Batrea Lake to hide as a dozen Guardians swarmed by, seeming to collect somewhere on the other side of the river.

At some point, I regained my feet, took Link’s hand, and ran along behind him, as we dashed down the hills toward the cleft in the Dueling Peaks.

Going back to Impa.

Going back to the Sheikah.

I heard a distant clash behind us, and the now-unforgettable sound of Guardians firing with impunity, and realized they were taking out the Garrisons. Kolomo and East Post were likely being destroyed a that very moment.

They knew us. They knew how we might fight back, and they were eliminating our options.

“They have to come for the Sheikah,” I gasped, as I realized the next logical step to their destruction.

“And Hateno,” Link agreed. “The lab is there, with Purah. We can only hope Robbie was with her or Impa when it happened; the tech lab by the Castle was surely the first thing to fall.”

“What can we do?” I asked as we ran. “We have to slow them down, give Impa a chance to drop the bridge, collapse the Gap of Quince-“

“I’m on it, Princess,” Link gritted, as we ran along the Squabble River. “We can hold the Fort.”

“Link, no, you’ve never fought a Guardian, you don’t know-“

He pulled up short, spun me around to face him. “There is nobody else. It has to be me. If we don’t stop them here, they take Necluda, and it is only a matter of time before Kakariko fails, and then where do we go? We stop them at Fort Hateno, we buy ourselves a chance. We buy Purah and Robbie a chance to come up with a way to either turn them around or destroy them, but right now there is an _army_ of Guardians between us and Ganon. Either way I have to get through them.”

He was right. _Damn him_ why did he always have to be right?

“If we get out of this, I’m making you a general.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said over his shoulder, but the light in his eyes helped me catch my breath. He wasn't quitting. He wasn't done.

He still thought we could do this.

I would keep fighting for as long as he believed.

“What was it you said on the cliff?”

“What?”

“Fuck’s sake?”

His shoulders turned inward, ever so slightly, and I felt my own smile start to creep back. “For fuck’s sake,” he enunciated for me.

“Right. Thank you. Well. For fuck’s sake, Link, be careful.”

“Proper usage. Well done.”

“Thank you. It was about time you taught me a proper swear.”

We were running again, charging up to the stable, ordering everyone to evacuate, to loose the horses and flee for Hateno Village. We were both known there, and the warning was heeded. Within minutes, Link grabbed a horse that was running scared, swung up bareback, and reached a hand down to me. I took it and he swung me up behind him, kicking the horse into motion.

The Guardians’ vanguard had already reached the Fort.

Link charged in, leaping off the horse and slapping it as he twisted in the air, to send it – and me! – galloping off into the opposite direction. I eventually got it to stop by saying every sweet thing I could imagine to it, and by then there was smoke rising off the field. I directed the evacuation, waving people around the lifeless mechanical bodies steaming in the incessant downpour. When the last of the people ran through the gate and into the Gap of Quince, I sent the horse running after them and went looking for Link.

I followed the trail of damaged and destroyed automatons, noting in many cases Link had simply cut their legs off and damaged their gears so they had a limited field of view. He had crippled them, and it was the work of a moment to determine what they could not see and sneak around, white dress be damned.

My breath caught when I found the remains of his shield. I had never known a Hylian shield to break, but who knew what abuses this one had suffered?

I found Link not long after, thanks to his voice raised in a shout and the sudden sound of catastrophic failure as another Guardian exploded, its shell remaining intact as a cloud of malice rose from its dull eye.

I ran towards the sound to find Link on one knee, leaning heavily on his sword, bleeding freely from countless wounds.

“Link!” I called, and he turned toward me, surging to his feet.

“You shouldn’t be here!” he whispered fiercely, drawing me against a tree to again hide the gleam of my now-filthy white dress. His face was inches from mine, the rain still pouring down around us, and for the first time there was _fear_ on his face.“I need you to be safe, Princess, please, get to Hateno before the gap is closed!”

“Not without you!” I shot back. “I can’t do this without you, you _have_ to come with me!”

“I’m not sure I can make it,” he confessed, and my heart dropped.

“I will carry you, if I have to,” I told him.

We stayed like that for a long minute, eye to eye, filthy and exhausted and _lost_.

“I need you _safe_ , Zelda,” he said, in a tone that shook me to my very bones.

He needed to know I was safe when he _died._

And then a Guardian found us.

Link turned and heaved the Master Sword directly into its eye, and the sword flared white hot as it came into contact with the energy of its ancient foe. The Guardian died instantly, but the act threw Link off balance. He staggered over to retrieve his sword and then dropped once more to his knee.

“Link!” I ran over to him, putting both hands to his shoulders. “Link, save yourself, go! I’ll be _fine_ , don’t worry about me! _Run_.”

A metallic click, whirl, and then series of beeps from the other side of the growing pile of dead Guardians gave Link the energy to push to his feet once more. He swayed almost drunkenly, and then planted himself in front of me.

“No,” I pleaded. “Link, please, _no_.”

He shifted his arm, but stopped. He didn’t have the strength for another throw, and if he survived this beam he would need his sword in hand to kill the Guardian. I _knew him_ , I could see his thoughts as clearly as if they were my own, and I saw him accept his death as worthwhile if only to give me a chance to escape.

 _My life is yours, Princess_.

The next spirit in my head would be Link.

 _No_.

_NO._

_NO, THIS WILL NOT BE._

_YOU WILL NOT TAKE HIM_.

Something bright and feral and purely instinctual flared to life in my chest and I  _reveled_ in it. I shoved Link aside, stepped around him, placed myself squarely into the Guardian’s beam, and put up my hand.

“NO!”

A golden light erupted from my palm, suffusing my form, filling me with warmth to my toes, as the holy symbol of the Triforce flared to life on the back of my hand. A sphere of radiant golden energy shot forth and drove the spirit of malice from every Guardian upon the field. One by one, their engines whirled to a stop, their lights shut down, and they collapsed in the mud.

And then the light was gone. The ferocity that had overtaken me withdrew, but did not vanish, and I knew myself changed.

“Was... was that...? The power?”

Before I could grasp what I had just done, another wet thump behind me, paired with Link’s voice in pain, spun me around.

He’d collapsed.  He was curled inward, holding his abdomen together as blood leaked between his fingertips, his sword clutched in one desperate palm as if it were his lifeline.

“No, no!” I darted over to him, fell to my knees at his side, rolled him so I could support his head and put pressure on his wounds. “Link! Get up!” If the Guardians were down, the way was clear, I could get him to Kakariko, to Impa, to _Purah_ -

He fought to sit up, fought to open his eyes, fought to focus on my face. “You’re going to be just fine,” I told him. He coughed, and lost consciousness.

I tried to lift him, and failed. I was too exhausted, and he was completely limp. I would need a horse, but the last horse had been herded through the gates towards Hateno.

There was nothing I could do. He was going to die here, to bleed on out on this muddy field because I failed to save him.

I dropped my head to his chest, and wept.

_You have not failed._

It was not Link’s voice. I didn’t recognize this voice – or voices, rather. It was dozens, if not hundreds, of voices: men and women and children, many children, all overlapping, all speaking at once. It was _like_ Link, but _not_...

 _You have done everything we could have asked of you, and more, Princess_.

I looked around to see the sword that seals the darkness flash with each sentence.

“The sword...?”

_Yes, Princess. Please, save my Master._

“So... he can still be saved?”

 _The Shrine of Resurrection. The Shrine was built for this, to rebuild my Master when he fell, so I did not have to wait another cycle to be reclaimed. He must go to the Shrine. Your Sheikah know the way_.

“Princess!” My head jerked up as two Sheikah warriors dashed across the field towards us, from where they had been undoubtedly been preparing to drop the Kakariko bridge to protect the Village.

He could be saved.

They both hit a knee as they drew near, eyes wide as they took in Link’s still form.

I would not call it a body, not even in my own thoughts.

“Princess, are you alright?”

“Take Link to the Shrine of Resurrection,” I commanded. “If you don’t get him there immediately, we are going to lose him forever! Is that clear?”

They both nodded, once, and pushed to their feet.

“So make haste, and _go_. His life is now in your hands!”

“Where is this Shrine?” One asked, while the other dashed about, preparing a litter.

“To the south and west, on the Great Plateau. Purah and Robbie found it, on the cliff face west of the Temple of Time.”

“They are both in Kakariko,” the warrior informed me. "We could ask one of them to show us the way."

“We shall go there first, then,” I amended. “The extra hour now might save several hours later, if we have to send for Purah.”

The warrior nodded and then stood to help his fellow. They were stripping branches from the tree behind me, weaving together a quick mat that could be suspended between tree branches and carry Link faster and more safely than dangling him limply between two running Sheikah.

“You said your life was mine, sir knight,” I told him as I waited, "and I do not yet relinquish it!" A few minutes now to save hours later, Zelda, patience, have patience. I still had my hands pressed to his wounds, holding him together, and I focused on him _staying alive_. The golden power sizzled and surged across the backs of my hands and I _knew_ it wouldn't heal him but I focused it on Link anyways. Just stay alive, damn you. “Your soul must stay with this body, Link! I _order_ you to stay alive long enough for Purah to get the Shrine to start rebuilding you!”

“Yes, Princess,” he murmured.

“Link! Oh, darling, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Sheikah warriors have found us. We’re taking you to a Shrine that will heal you. The sword- the sword said-“

“Take it,” he whispered. “Take it back to the Deku Tree. He’ll know what to do.”

“I will,” I promised, immediately. Anyone who knew what to do was someone I wanted to talk to.

“Princess...”

“I’m here, Link, I’m here.”

“...a thousand...” he breathed, as I strained to hear against the dashing footsteps of the Sheikah and the incessant pounding of the rain. “...a thousand lifetimes, I was never allowed to love you.”

His breath rattled in his throat, his eyes rolled back, and another lifetime came to an end.


	12. I Will Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denouement.  
> Memory 18: The Master Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written using Purah's Journal, Robbie's Journal, and the cutscene we get from King Rhoam at the top of the Temple of Time. It's as close as I can get to recreating what happened to Zelda following Link's Fall.

I let the Sheikah warriors carry the litter and ran along side. I reached out every time the ground leveled off for a bit and my footing was sure, and I placed my hand to his chest. 

His heart continued to beat.

It was thready and weak and irregular and unsteady and nothing it should be.

But it beat.

The run up the road to Kakariko was the longest of my life. It seemed to take three times as long as our mad flight from the Lanayru East Gate to Kakariko... just that afternoon? Goddess save me, had that been _today_?

The sun was just coming up over the mountains as we raced into town and I realized I had stayed awake through the night. Beyond that, I could not imagine sleeping just then, or ever again really.

I refused to make a fatalistic connection between the timing of this achievement and the condition of the person who had so vexed me by avoiding sleep.

 _Refused_.

Purah was with Impa, in the house the sisters now arguably had a shared claim to. The elder sister darted out and immediately began working to stabilize Link. She was shaking her head within moments, distressed to the point of incoherence. She was no Mipha, after all; she was a scientist, not a healer.

“He's too... I can’t... not here. I’m sorry, Princess, but-“

“The Master Sword says the Shrine of Resurrection was built for precisely this need,” I informed her, in a tone I hoped would dissuade any argument. “You must take him there.”

Purah shook her head again. She gestured for Robbie to take over; he was already hard at work, strapping Link down and stuffing a series of herbs into his slack cheeks. I couldn’t bear to watch, and Purah led me a few steps away.  “I can, and I will, and you’re right. But, Princess..." her voice actually shook. "We never learned how to power the Shrine.”

“Are you saying it won’t work?”

“I’m saying it was designed to do its work in a day or two. For injuries like this? The research suggests 60 to 72 hours. But without adequate power, its work gets slowed exponentially.”

“How slow?”

“A factor of ten.”

“So twenty days instead of two?” It was a sickening thought. To wait  _weeks_ for Link to recover? That was a very long time indeed for Ganon to sew chaos across the realm.

“No. _Exponential_. Best case, 26 _years,_ although by the time we get all the way to the Shrine of Resurrection the best case will be more like fifty. Maybe as many as _one hundred_ _and fifty_ years. If we are very, _very_ lucky, one of us _might_ be alive when he wakes up. And after that stretch of time, the likelihood of him retaining any episodic memory is below five percent. It's less than one percent at one hundred years, and practically zero after then.”

I felt my feet come untethered from the world as the actual reality of our situation struck me. I had thought a few weeks was too long for Ganon to be free, but decades? Upwards of a century? And then, to have him wake up with no memory of our battle, of the sword, of his family, of everything we had lost, everything we had fought for?

To have him wake up and not remember me?

Would there even be anything left for him to fight for, after leaving Hyrule to Ganon for decades?

 _“_ As much as _one hundred and fifty years?’_ I breathed. “Will there be anything left to save?”

She nodded, and I could see the conflict in her eyes. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

The sword flared, from where I had it strapped to my back. _Save him_.

“Positive.”

Purah nodded again; she seemed relieved to have the decision made. “Alrighty, then. I need your slate.”

I quickly freed the Sheikah slate, and handed the belt and holster to Purah. I opened up the picture album and quickly sorted through the images. I regretted, deeply, the one I had deleted of Link and I on the grass that perfect day, what felt like a lifetime ago. I ended up with twelve landscapes that I carefully reviewed and committed to memory before shutting off the screen and handing it to Purah. "Perhaps, when he wakes up, these images will help him remember."

She nodded sagely and took the device from me. Robbie was there, and as Purah lifted the slate out of my palm, he laid Link’s Champion tunic into the empty hand.

It was bloodstained but intact. I glanced, briefly, at the bloody mess that was Link’s abdomen, exposed with his tunic off, and knew I would regret it until the end of time. I shuddered, and pressed the garment into Impa’s hands.

“Give this to him,” I bid her. “You do what you must to _be here_ when he wakes up. Show him the images on the slate, encourage him to remember our fight. And if there is even the _inkling_ that he remembers who he is, you give him this." 

“Of course, Princess,” she replied, flatly. Her eyes were stony and it took a moment for me to register that she wasn't upset with _me_. We were none of us handling this moment well; it was hard to remember I wasn't the only person to love him.

“Ask your warriors where he fell. I took... I had pictures on the slate, of places that were important to us, but I don't have any of Fort Hateno. I think he might need to know where he fell, to understand what he sacrificed his life for. I wish there were more, I wish I had kept... but no matter. Make sure the people remember where he fell, and _why_. He gave his life so there would be a place where our people might survive.”

“I will make sure he is remembered, Princess. Is there anything else?”

“Tell him...” Tell him I love him. Tell him he was the light of my life. Tell him he was my only comfort in the darkness. Tell him he was the key to my power, the solution to the problem that had cast a shadow over my entire life. Tell him I will _never_ stop believing that one day he will come right these wrongs. Tell him that, if I am not yet alive when he wakes up, that I never loved another. “Tell him he must free the four Divine Beasts.”

“That is your last message to the love of your life?”

I hadn’t said it, but it was Impa. She knew. A memory bubbled up, of Link and her on the face of the cliff before we leapt, and his voice, half-heard, confessing to Impa, “That’s why I love her.” And then I had wrapped myself around him and trusted him to throw us both of a cliff.

Oh, there was no doubting it. She knew.

“No. That is my last command as his sovereign. He is to do what he can to free our friends. I can only hope I have the opportunity to speak with him once more as friends, for everything else I might wish to say.”

“Where are you going?”

I nodded at the sword. “I have to take it back.”

“Princess, it is not safe-“

“It is safe enough, for me.”

Her teeth clicked together, and I directed my attention back to her sister. Purah and Robbie were lifting Link’s litter, then, and I reached over to verify, one last time, that his heart yet beat.

It did.

“Go,” I whispered, and the two scientists took off at a run.

Without another word, I turned, and left Kakariko behind.

I went slowly, I admit. I stuck to the roads, following a wide arc around the Castle, keeping my eyes turned away from the flashes of fire and continuous black smoke. I crossed the Thims bridge to find the inn there already torn to the ground, the people dead or fled. The Rauru settlement was in ruins, the Military Training Camp reduced to rubble, and the Minshi woods were burned to ash.

I encountered Guardians, of course. Every time one drew near, I looked it in the eye, and I told it, _no_. Then, with a flare of golden light, the power of malice vanished, and the eye went dark.

Every step of the way, I was bathed in gentle memories from the sword.

The day Link first claimed the sword, the trepidation with which he approached the pedestal, the reverence with which he held it skyward. Countless versions of the same person, with the same eyes and the same determination on their brow, stepping forward to draw the sword, over and over and over again through time.

The first time Link saw me, and the shock of recognition that shook him to his bones.

The morning he watched me wake up, ensconced in his clothing, to stick my face into the material and breathe deeply his scent, and the way his heart raced to see my smile.

The instant his feet hit the ground, that last terrible day at Fort Hateno, when he looked over his shoulder at the horse running wild, carrying me away from the battle, a fierce joy singing through him to know I was safe. 

The sword didn't have to tell me the depth of Link's love for me. I was glad that it didn't; I would rather hear it in his voice, than that of the harmonious multitudes that had wielded the blade before him. The idea that the person who woke up -  _and he will wake up, he **will**_ \- might not remember me, might not  _love_ me? I would rather not have the sword whisper to me of what might have been.

 _Save him_ , it whispered to me as we neared what many called the Lost Woods. _Save him, so he returns for us both_.

“They’ve taken him to the shrine,” I said, in the same tones I’d learned to use to soothe my horse, who even now was living a life of luxury in Kakariko. “If he can be saved, Purah and Robbie will save him.”

 _You must preserve Hyrule_ , the sword countered, and I realized it was trying to tell me something critically important. _He must be allowed to rest, to take the time he needs to heal. If Malice is left unchecked, my Master will be found and slain in his sleep. You must save him_.

A series of images flashed through my mind, and I everything that had happened before suddenly made sense. My devotions, my research,  my every doubt and conviction... all of it suddenly came together in a breathtaking flash.

Oh, Link was right. He was always right, damn him, but he had been completely right about me. I had survived my trials with every skill I needed to face the battle to come; everything that had happened had been necessary, had carried  _purpose_. As long as I stayed true to myself, I could not fail... I had only to trust in Link to hold true to his own purpose. It didn't matter whether he remembered anything when he awoke, because courage is never forgotten.

“Thank you,” I whispered to the sword, but this time it kept its silence.

I was surprised to the find the Great Forest intact, at first, but upon further inspection I could not believe an army of mechanical soldiers would ever find their way through that swirling forest. I held my hand out before me, and simply followed the light that shone there.

I made my way to the pedestal at the foot of the Great Deku Tree, and gently set the sword down beside the slot in the stone meant to hold it aloft. The unthinkably giant tree was gnarled in such a way as to have a face, but it held little interest in the face of the three-sided stone platform engraven with the symbols of the Triforce that peeked out of its roots. It was the same as the great circle where I'd anointed Link - it was the first thing and the last thing that tied the sword and I together. Its voice became a whisper to me, in the very back of my mind, as it sang gently of this place - its home. The battle at Fort Hateno had stained the hilt, and Link’s fall had caused the blade to rust, but I knew – in the way I knew how to breathe and blink – that it would be hale again by the time Link awoke.

“Your Master will come for you,” I assured the sentient sword. “Until then, you shall rest safely here.”

It twinkled, but did not respond. I could not believe it did not hear me. And, still, I often needed to speak aloud to really hear my own thoughts.

“Although the Slumber of Restoration will most certainly deprive him of his memories, please trust me when I say that I know he will arrive before you yet again.”

“If I may be so bold,” a raspy, massive voice interrupted. “What is it that you are planning to do next, Princess?”

The Deku Tree! I had been to this place a dozen times and never heard him speak. I stared at him in awe for a moment before considering his question. The face that could have almost been a trick of the eye was animated, was _looking_ at me, and the peace his gaze bestowed was unlike anything I had ever experienced. What was I planning...? He didn’t want me to tell him I was going to plant the sword back in the pedestal; that was plainly obvious.

“The Master Sword...” I tried to explain. “I heard it speak to me. It... it seems that my role is unfinished. There is still something I must do.”

I took a breath and prepared to launch into the details, and how I had suddenly understood everything I had ever experienced, in the way Link had try to tell me I had been created specifically for this role. The Deku tree did not need it, though.

“I sense there is great strength in your dedication,” he observed.

I knew so little about the great tree, but he was rumored to be precognizant in the way only the truly ancient could be. History repeated itself, and the longer one lived, the easier the pattern was to discern. Which meant... Here was an entity who not only was _guaranteed_ to be alive when Link finally awoke, but whose words would be taken as truth.

“Great Deku Tree, I ask of you, when he returns, can you please relay this message? Tell him I lo-“

“Now then,” he interrupted. “Words intended for him would sound much better in the tones of your voice, don’t you think?”

Hadn't I just thought the same thing about the sword? I was beyond the point of ever believing in coincidences again. Had the Tree and the Princess had this exact same conversation before? Oh, Goddess, if we had...? That would mean everything would work out, in the end. 

“Yes,” I agreed, feeling almost happy. The Deku Tree seemed to believe I would see him again. The sword that seals the darkness had given me the instruction I had always lacked. I had direction, I had purpose, I had _hope_.

I just had to have the Courage to see it through.

I picked up the Master Sword and centered it in the gap in the stones.

 _Thank you_ , it said, in the tones of goodbye.

The golden light flared in my hands again, and the sword slid home in the stones at my feet. The Deku Tree's face slid back into immobility, and the Forest sunk once more into slumber.

I released the hilt and turned to walk away, stopping only to see divine light cutting through the trees to shine on the softly glowing sword, as it began the slow work of repairing itself and waiting for its Master to return.

I left the Great Forest, following the road across the Helmhead Bridge and through the strangely intact forest park. I had made this journey many times; the distance between Hyrule Castle and the forest of the Deku Tree were the journey of a morning or an idle summer afternoon. I didn't have to consider my steps as I crossed the Boneyard Bridge and found the Cathedral already damaged to the point Link and I would have been unable to use it to enter the Castle. The Guardians noticed me, but for whatever reason, none of them turned a malevolent eye upon me.

I walked, unhurried, unmolested, up to the front gates, and I called to the Beast.

 _I have come for you_ , I directed the thought outward, upward, inward, as I reached out and grasped Serenity with both hands and pulled it tight to my heart.

This time, not only did the Golden Power flare to life in my hands, but a sudden  _presence_ filled my chest, and it was like a lamp was lit in the back of my mind. Suddenly the darkest corners were illuminated; connections I had never dreamed of slipped into place, hidden truths were made plain. I recognized Her immediately, intimately; She was my mother, my grandmother, my grandmother's grandmothers, a long line of women stretching back to the very beginning of time as I understood it. She was the woman who had spoken to me in my dreams, and She had always been a part of me. 

I had never been alone; my mother had never truly left. I had just never known it until that moment. 

As She awoke in my soul, I felt a sudden connection to Hyrule, to the very land itself. I could feel the creatures that walked upon it, the wind that moved the grasses, the monsters that desecrated the soil. And, far to the south, the weight of Farore's Champion settling into the Shrine of Resurrection. A coffin-like lid descended from the ceiling of a cavern I had never seen, and sealed him within a basin that was filling with something very similar to water. He breathed deep of the strange liquid; his heart stuttered, steadied, calmed. The Shrine slowly came to life, painstakingly rebuilding the only man I had ever needed.

 _Link_ , I cast out my thought, hoping there was still something left of him to hear me.  _You are our final hope_. 

 _Save him_ , the voice of the sword begged, whispering to me from across the miles I had crossed that day.

The Beast twisted, the smoke and fire coalescing into a face and searching for me, drawn to the power of Hylia, Herself. The golden light in my hand swelled, consuming me, flaring out in the face of the Calamity Ganon. In response, its gaping black maw stretched open wide, and an otherworldly laugh rolled forth. The Beast of smoke and fire, Malice and raw Power, dove towards me, and swallowed me whole. Like a fool.

 _The problem with you, Ganon,_ I chided him from the corner of his mind I now inhabited,  _is your foolish, impulsive, ignorant schemes._   _You do this to yourself, you know_.

**_What have you done?_ **

_Me? I’ve done nothing. I merely walked across the bridge. You’re the idiot who tried to eat me. We’re stuck like this now. Do you never think things through?_

**_This cannot be. I will expel you and destroy you, as I did your father, as I did your foolish Champions, and that sword-wielding_ _schmuck_.**

_You’re certainly welcome to try,_ I said, as patronizing as possible. Judging by the way the darkness swirled and flailed around me as he raged, he definitely did try. And once he was tired, and casting about for other options, I reached out, to the Sanctum, to the center of the place I have lived my entire life, and I tethered us to the center of Hyrule Castle. He could not roll his evil across Hyrule until he evicted me, and our power was deadlocked. We were trapped here until our equal came to break the tie, and Link was sleeping until further notice.  _Finally_ , he was getting some sleep. 

Once Ganon realized he was chained to the Castle, he howled for what was easily a month. Perhaps longer. Perhaps decades.

I imagined I was sitting on my heels, with my hands laying gently in my lap, and gave myself over to the control of the Goddess. I had ten years of diligent training in separating my mind from my physical form, in becoming _ethereal_ , and in this place, I could pass years in the span of a single thought.

Luckily for me, the Sword had just given me a number of lovely thoughts to mull over.

Content to let Zelda rest, to let Hylia's gentle hand protect my mortal form, I settled in to wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot possibly post all the art and love and amazing head-canons and side-stories and goofy wonderfulness that has spawned from the people who read this story.  
> I wrote this to cope with some heavy shit and the response I got - love and support and more love and holy shit the love - has just been so much more than I ever dared to dream.  
> Thank you, all of you, for helping me heal through this little story of mine.  
> I'm going to work on a happy ending for these two clowns, both for myself and as a thank-you to all of you.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Only Hero Left](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11215251) by [Ikira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ikira/pseuds/Ikira)




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